Delivered
by A. Windsor
Summary: "I didn't sign up for the Warehouse to mess with us like this." Eventual Bering & Wells, in a vague post 4.01 world.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Delivered

Author: A. Windsor

Characters: Myka Bering, HG Wells, Pete Lattimer, with supporting roles from everyone else.

Pairings: Increasingly Myka/HG, maybe some other ships in a more supporting role, later

Rating: PG?

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. My two years of law school could allow me to legalese this a little more, but it also tells me it's pretty useless. So please don't sue; it's not mine, I'm just playing!

Summary: "I didn't sign up for the Warehouse to mess with us like this."

Author's Note: Beta'd by cacheese, 'cause roughian's still on Season One. With the summer season in full swing, here is where all my inspiration is. This happens in a vague post-4x02 world. I'll incorporate things from Season 4 if they seem relevant or necessary, but it might go even more AU as the season goes on.

* * *

"Mykes. Help."

And how can she say no to that?

She reaches out and takes the squalling infant. Other girls might have been attending parties every Friday and Saturday night of high school, but Myka Bering was making a ton of money putting kids to bed at eight p.m. and then having three to four hours of uninterrupted reading time.

"Hey there. Hey, buddy," she soothes the three-week-old. "I've got you."

In far less frantic arms, he begins to settle, whimpers rather than wails.

"See, he likes you," Pete says, relieved. "Right, Max? You like Aunt Mykes."

Aunt Mykes. That's how it starts.

* * *

Not a single one of them is prepared when Max arrives in their lives, the proverbial baby in the basket (or, rather, infant carrier carseat). A cliche, name pinned to his blanket with a note that immediately gives his paternity away.

"Macsen August Lattimer."

The name is the only thing his mother ever gives him, though Claudia and Artie have been searching for her, fruitlessly, ever since.

* * *

"Pete! What did you do?!"

The baby starts crying at the commotion, unused to Myka's frequent exasperation. The whole lot of them have been staring at it, dumbfounded.

Leena, returned from inside with a light blanket, tuts and leans down to scoop the baby up, giving them all disappointed looks for leaving him screaming on the porch while they bickered and theorized in the setting summer sun.

"Me? What! What did I do?" Pete cries as Myka shoves the note into his hands. He reads the words, his face going pale, voice soft when he can finally speak: "What- what did I do?"

* * *

Max came into this world almost ten months after Pete's run-in with an irresistible lust-inducing artifact and a very beautiful woman. Once the haze wore off, the two went their separate, slightly embarrassed ways, and neither thought much of it.

And then, Max.

* * *

"Whoa, this baby really is Pete's?" Claudia asks.

They are still all comically frozen on the front porch, though Leena has finally gotten the tiny baby to settle down.

"Maybe we should go inside?" Myka suggests, finally.

"Right, right," Artie recovers. He snatches the note from a nauseated Pete and shoos them all inside.

No one notices that Pete isn't with them until they are all settled into the living room. With a sideways glance at baby Macsen, Myka turns back to retrieve him. She finds him exactly where they left him, hollow. He has no witty joke for this situation.

"Hey," she says gently.

He swallows hard.

"I didn't sign up for this," he says. "I didn't sign up for the Warehouse to mess with us like this."

"Pete-"

She can't refute that, but she also knows the Warehouse doesn't follow any rules. It's already stolen Pete's One (or helped Helena do it, but no one talks about that). Now, it has taken this, insinuated itself forever into the most personal part of Pete.

"I have a kid, Myka," he yells.

Inside, said 'kid' begins to wail.

"I know. And now we have to figure out what to do next."

* * *

Pete is nervous, tentative, when he enters the living room, but Leena is having none of that. Almost immediately, Leena crosses to Pete and Myka and thrusts Macsen into his father's arms. Pete fumbles a little, both Myka and Leena at the ready to catch the tiny infant, but he gamely recovers, pulling Max into a competent, if awkward, hold.

"Whoa."

Pete stares for the first time into his son's perfect face. The room quiets for that moment of peace, but Artie is soon thinking aloud, just like always.

"We'll need to track down the mother, of course. And figure out how someone left something on the porch without us noticing - "

"Someone," Leena cuts in. "Left someone on the porch."

"Of course, of course. Claudia, this might be a job for your computer. Maybe we should call Steve and HG back from the Guy Fawkes artifact in London? And-"

"Um, can we back it up to the whole 'Pete has a baby' thing?" Claudia asks, holding up a hand.

"How do we know he's really his?" Myka asks the question no one really wants to.

That makes the whole room pause, but Pete, who has already started instinctively rocking the baby back and forth, says calmly:

"He is."

"Right, but some confirmation - " Artie starts.

"He's mine," Pete says firmly, not looking up.

"Okay," Artie relents, mouthing "DNA" to Claudia, who nods.

"More importantly," Leena declares, "We don't have anything to feed a baby. Or diapers."

"Okay, okay. Pete-" Artie shakes his head, as if remembering. "No, Myka, go get... whatever a baby needs. Claudia, we'll go to the Warehouse and do some research."

"Aw, but I haven't held Maxy yet!"

Artie ignores her, pressing on: "Leena..."

He nods towards Pete.

They scatter easily. They're all trained for crisis, they just need things to do in order to survive one. Once they're all gone, Pete finally looks up at Leena, smiling dazedly.

"He's asleep."

"That's good," Leena says gently, grabbing the carseat Macsen arrived in. "Do you want to put him down?"

"No," Pete shakes his head and Leena smiles softly.

"Okay. How about you sit down?" she gestures to the couch. Pete nods.

"Myka will be back soon. Hopefully before he wakes up."

"Leena?"

"Yeah, Pete?"

"I think this might be like the third time I've ever held a baby."

Leena laughs a little. "You're doing very well."

"Okay. But don't go anywhere."

"I'll be right here, Pete," Leena promises. "Congratulations, Dad."

* * *

"Pete," Myka says gently from the bedroom door.

Pete looks up from where he is fumbling with a diaper.

"Leena showed me how to do this, but I think I did it wrong."

He holds Macsen up for Myka to see, very careful to support his head. The motions aren't natural, but the attention he gives them are sweet. As is the slightly off-kilter diaper adorning the infant's bottom half.

Myka crosses into Pete's room and evaluates the diaper job. She slides a finger at the edge of Macsen's tiny thigh, to check for anywhere there could be leaks. Despite not being pretty, it looks like it will do the job.

"It looks good."

Pete beams, kissing the baby's cheek and then drawing him back against his chest.

"Hear that, Max? Daddy did something right."

"Max," Myka smiles softly. "I like that."

"Macsen's a big name for such a tiny man," Pete explains.

"Pete," she starts, taking a big breath. "We need a plan. For Max's future."

"Ooh, you're right. He needs, like, a bed. Does he need a nursery? I mean he'll sleep in here for awhile, right? But then, he needs his own room. Leena will be okay with that, right? And there's a lot of furniture a baby needs. Isn't there like a table where I change his diaper? My dad used to rock us in this awesome rocking chair; I wonder if my mom still has it. Mom! I need to tell her about Max! She's going to be so excited."

He crosses to find his cellphone, his hours of practice holding the baby making him more comfortable with the idea of removing one hand to rummage around his stuff.

"Pete, wait," Myka says. "I meant further in the future. Where he's going to live. After this."

Pete scrunches up his brow, cocking his head.

"Um, here, Mykes."

"You can't keep him," Myka gapes. "He needs-"

"What? A family? I am his family."

"I know but-"

"I'm his father," Pete yells, angry.

"But our jobs- we're- someone else- "

"Who? Who else? What am I supposed to do? I am all he has. I will not send him away, too."

Peaceful Max whimpers a little, and Pete lowers his voice, taking a deep breath.

"The Regents're gonna try to take him, too. I need you on my side, Myka."

"I'm always on your side," Myka says, hurt that he would ever doubt that. "But this is a huge responsibility. A lifetime responsibility. And to do it alone? I mean, of course, we'll all help out how we can, but you'll be a single dad."

"I'm a single dad whether he lives here or not," Pete retorts. "And I'm not gonna send him off to live with strangers."

"What about your sister?"

Pete shakes his head.

"He should be with me. I don't know why she let him go, but I'm sure as hell not going to. Heck. I should probably start saying heck now, right?"

Myka laughs, running a hand through her hair. "Yeah. Probably."

"So you're on my side?"

"I'm on your side. If you think you can do this, then I'm on your side."

"I can," Pete says firmly, looking down to the baby in his arms. "I have to."

* * *

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Delivered

Author: A. Windsor

Fandom: Warehouse 13

Characters: Myka Bering, HG Wells, Pete Lattimer, with supporting roles from everyone else.

Pairings: Increasingly Myka/HG, maybe some other ships in a more supporting role, later

Rating: PG?

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. My two years of law school could allow me to legalese this a little more, but it also tells me it's pretty useless. So please don't sue; it's not mine, I'm just playing!

Summary: "I didn't sign up for the Warehouse to mess with us like this."

Author's Note: Beta'd by cacheese, 'cause roughian's still on Season One. Thanks for the great response! A new fandom is always nerve wracking!

* * *

Macsen Lattimer has been in Leena's B&B for forty-eight hours, and he has already taken over the whole place. Diapers and pacifiers and bottles and toys he is nowhere near old enough to play with are strewn about every room of the downstairs, and Pete's room is nothing but a nursery at this point. What most of them don't know is that tomorrow boxes full of Claudia-approved onesies and toys will start piling up on the porch, the spoils of online shopping between research sessions.

Today is a big day in Max's three-and-a-half weeks of life (according to the birthday written on the note). While Artie and Claudia still haven't turned up anything on who left him and where his mother is now, the rest of the Warehouse staff is far more focused on getting their newest resident settled.

Ever since he woke her in a panic at three in the morning that first night, Pete and Myka have been splitting what Pete calls "Max-duty" roughly 50/40, with Leena happily volunteering to take the other ten-percent after Pete finally realized he couldn't hold Max _all _of the time.

Today, though, Max is meeting three more very important women in his life: Dr. Calder (for a check-up), Mrs. Frederic (to assess what the hell is going on here), and Grandma Jane (for overjoyed doting and snuggling).

First, though, there is a Farnsworth call from London that demands the youngest B&B resident's (not very firm) attention.

"You're a dad!" Jinks cries, half-laughing in shock. "Let me see him!"

"Another boy for our team," Pete grins, displaying Max to the Farnsworth that Myka holds up.

"And hey, maybe for my team," Jinks teases.

"That would be so cool!" Pete exclaims. "What do you think, Max? You gonna play for Uncle Steve's team?"

"Uncle Steve?" Jinks asks, clearly touched. "Really?"

"Of course," Pete promises. "He needs some strong guys in his life. Besides Grandpa Artie."

"That child will not be calling me 'Grandpa Artie'," Artie speaks up sternly from the table.

"Yeah," Claudia chimes in. "He prefers Gramps."

Steve laughs.

"How's the mission going?" Myka, always down to business, asks after Steve finishes making funny faces at Max.

"Time for Aunt Claudia time," Claudia announces, plucking Max out of his father's arms. "At least until you get hungry."

"We're doing fine," Jinks promises. "I told HG I was calling you but she said she had to go out. I'm sure she'll call home soon."

"Are you getting close to being ready to come back?" Pete asks. "I want you to meet Max for real!"

"Still gotta snag, bag, and tag," Jinks reports, "But I think we've tracked it down. Even though HG keeps getting lost and complaining about the Olympics."

Myka smiles fondly, though she does find it strange that Helena just magically disappeared when Steve decided to call back to the B&B. Even if she strongly suspects why.

The front door opens and Pete grins.

"Okay, Uncle Steve, gotta go. Grandma's here."

Myka turns the Farnsworth around to face her.

"Be safe out there, Steve."

Steve grins wryly. "As long as the metronome is locked up with the Regents, there isn't much that can hurt me."

"Still," Myka argues.

"I'll keep an eye on HG," he says knowingly.

Myka closes the Farnsworth and looks up just in time to hear Jane Lattimer cry:

"Pete! He's perfect!"

* * *

"Well, Max, you check out. Just. Fine," Dr. Calder grins, tapping the infant on the nose.

Pete lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"He's healthy?" he double-checks.

"Perfectly. We'll have to set up a regimen of check-ups and vaccines. You're going to be seeing quite a bit of me, Mr. Max."

Vanessa hands Max over to his utterly delighted grandmother. Mrs. Frederic consults quietly to the side with Artie and Claudia, allowing the Lattimers some family time.

Ever the hostess, Leena keeps snacks and drinks flowing. Ever a caregiver, she wins a brief squabble with Claudia over whether the younger woman has to eat her carrots as _well_ as her ranch dressing.

"You're so bossy," Claudia pouts, though she grins winningly when Leena swats her on the shoulder.

"You'll thank me one day."

"Any leads on the mother?" Mrs. Frederic asks quietly.

Artie shakes his head negatively, and Claudia backs him up, though she doesn't mention that she might be giving it only half-effort, since she doesn't want any chance that they'll have to give Max back.

"The DNA?"

"Vanessa got a sample. She'll run it and let us know," Artie confirms.

"Arthur, you are the one in charge of the day-to-day here. I am not going to even consider signing off on the inclusion of a child if you don't think it will work."

Claudia sits up straighter. "We'll all help out. Steve's excited, too!"

Artie shushes her.

"I get the feeling that if Max goes, Pete goes," Artie says honestly. "So it depends on how much you want to keep Pete."

"I see."

"There's precedent!" Claudia chimes in over a grumbling Artie's objections. "HG had Christina when she was at Warehouse 12."

The three get a little more somber now. None ever knew the girl, but they all are (more or less) fond enough of her mother to feel the hole she left behind.

"Christina Wells had extended family to help care for her."

"So does Maxy," Claudia argues.

"She also had a governess. And servants."

"Oh," Claudia deflates a little. "But we can make it work. Myka has a plan! It's color-coordinated and everything."

"Well, in that case, I'd like to hear the plan."

They all gather, and Myka explains her plan, Max in her arms until she has to pull up the charts she made.

"Nerd," Pete teases as he takes his son from her. "Aunt Mykes is a nerd."

She rolls her eyes.

Mrs. Frederic is silent while taking in Myka's schedule, a somewhat complicated rotation that allows for both the long drags of down time and inventorying and the artifact-snagging travel time. When both Pete and Myka are in the field, Leena gamely agrees to be the primary person, with whichever agents aren't in the field as back up so she can have a break.

"We need to step up security around the B & B, though. And not just because someone managed to get here, drop him off, and leave, without being noticed," Artie chimes in when Myka finishes.

"I agree. And I will of course be available to help out when my duties allow it," Jane adds.

Mrs. Frederic nods.

"I will take it under advisement. I need assurances that the plan allows us to have Agents Lattimer and Bering in the field at the same time. However, I do believe that Agent Lattimer should be allowed at least a few weeks of paternity leave, if he would like it."

"Yeah. That sounds great."

"We've got a lot more shopping to do," Jane mentions.

"Ooh! Take me!" Claudia volunteers.

* * *

Since Mrs. Frederic won't reveal her decision until she's good and ready, the group focuses on nursery decoration themes instead.

Mrs. Frederic approaches Myka, who is off a little to the side.

"Your name appears quite often on that schedule."

"He deserves it."

"Pete? Or Max?"

"Both."

Mrs. Frederic nods.

"Agent Wells is not on that schedule. Not once."

Myka tries not to flinch. "No."

"Have you spoken to her?"

"She's avoiding me pretty well."

"I see."

"Anyway, the Regents have her pretty busy and..."

She trails off. She hates when she talks too much in front of Mrs. Frederic.

"Mykes!" Pete saves her. "Come here! We need you to be the tie-breaker."

* * *

"I'll give him the bottle; go talk to your mom. I haven't gotten any real time with him today."

"Okay," an exhausted Pete agrees.

Myka takes the bottle Leena holds out and escapes with Max up the stairs, into her room, hoping that in the quiet she'll get him to go to sleep for a few hours. She knows Pete needs some time to let this all settle in, and a mom's ear to hear his worries.

Little Max's brow scrunches as his mouth searches out the bottle.

"Okay, okay. Impatient just like your dad."

While he happily guzzles the formula, Myka looks down into his sweet face.

Their lives are completely different, because of him.

It's insane, really.

Even if Mrs. Frederic refuses to let him stay, Pete will go, too, which will definitely change everything. And if he stays, when he stays...

She's done the baby thing in three, four, five hours bursts, but it's been a long time, and it was never like this. She's taking on a lot, and she knows it, but it's Pete. He's her partner, and she's not going to let him do this alone. She's not the mushy type, but she knows she's going to love Max, no matter what, this tiny little person wholly dependent on all of them. If they manage not to fail him, it might be the best thing they've ever done.

But he's also, she knows, the reason Helena has stopped taking her calls. And that could change a lot of things, too.

* * *

"I received a call from Mrs. Frederic," Artie announces to the breakfast table the next day.

Everyone freezes, and Steve hands Max back to Pete. He returned this morning with the artifact; HG, of course, was delayed on "other business".

"Mrs. Frederic says she thinks zoo animals would make a good nursery theme. And you should paint the room green."

The joy is overwhelming, Leena, Claudia, Pete, and Steve all talking over each other. Myka, shocked, asks Artie quietly:

"Really?"

Artie nods, and Myka breaks out in a grin. She is overjoyed, which surprises her, but that tiny voice is in the back of her mind, telling her that this news, like artifacts, may come with a down side.

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Delivered

Author: A. Windsor

Fandom: Warehouse 13

Characters: Myka Bering, HG Wells, Pete Lattimer, with supporting roles from everyone else.

Pairings: Myka/HG, maybe some other ships in a more supporting role, later

Rating: PG?

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. My two years of law school could allow me to legalese this a little more, but it also tells me it's pretty useless. So please don't sue; it's not mine, I'm just playing!

Summary: "I didn't sign up for the Warehouse to mess with us like this."

Author's Note: Beta'd by cacheese, 'cause roughian's still on Season One. Now there is definitely some Bering&Wells!

* * *

She tries not to think about Helena: _annoyed_ doesn't even begin to cover it. She knows that this all has to be hard for her, unimaginably so, but the immature avoidance is really unproductive.

Instead, she focuses on the mission, or tries to at least. The mission, and Helena, are pushed to the back of her mind as Claudia flops onto her hotel bed with her modded-up iPad. The two are partners for this, Myka's first mission into the field since baby Max arrived in their midst.

"Okay. He is beyond cute," Claudia grins. "He's gonna totally ruin my rep."

Myka leans over to share the dozens of pictures and videos Pete and Leena have been sending throughout the day. She still has about a million reservations and concerns about raising a baby in their line of work, but she promised Pete she would help. Over the last ten days of late nights and countless hours of rocking, she couldn't help but fall in love with the little one.

There's a knock on the door. Grabbing her gun, Myka approaches the door, sneaking a look through the peephole. She immediately lowers the gun and yanks open the door.

"Helena."

"Hello, darling," HG smirks a bit, eyes raking over the tank top and boxers she's already donned for sleep.

"And that's my cue to leave," Claudia leaps up, gathering her things. "Night, Myka. Hi, HG."

"Hello and goodnight," Helena says warmly, squeezing the young woman's arm briefly. "Hopefully I shall see you in the morning, if Myka will have me."

Myka is definitely still annoyed.

But, it's been weeks since she last saw Helena. The Regents like to assign her little side projects, probably to keep her too busy to plot anything, and between those, her mission to London, and the avoidance, it's been almost a month.

So she can't help the traitorous leap and swell her heart does at the sight of her.

"Come in," Myka says as Claudia disappears into the room across the hall.

HG smiles and does as she's told, slipping into the room and, much to Myka's surprise, right into Myka's arms. She kisses her sweetly, desperately, and Myka melts against her, grateful to once again feel her soft and solid against her.

"I know I am in likely quite a bit of trouble, but I simply had to do that."

Helena pulls away as abruptly as she stepped in, a pale ghost of her devilish grin dancing across the lips Myka longs to kiss again. Helena's dizzying charm has always been her most dangerous weapon, especially against Myka.

"Why are you here?" Myka asks, tamping down the ache to touch her again.

"I missed you."

"I've been in the same place for two weeks. In fact, you kind of live there, too. Why now? Why Seattle?"

"You know why."

"He's just a baby, Helena. He doesn't bite yet."

Helena looks at her darkly.

"It's not that simple."

"Of course it's not. So talk to me," Myka begs, arms crossed over her chest.

HG's defenses rise.

"I hear you have been playing house with Agent Lattimer," she sniffs.

Myka cocks her head, studying the woman she has learned every inch of and yet still manages to be such a mystery at the most important times.

"Helena. Are you _jealous_?"

HG shakes off the suggestion, perhaps more upset than before.

"What I mean is that if I return to Leena's, the boy - "

"Max."

"Max," Helena nods with a sad smile. "He won't merely be a baby crying at the end of the hall, which honestly would be difficult enough."

Myka takes a step forward to help sooth the anguish that clouds Helena's face, but HG sidesteps and continues:

"He will be a child crying at the end of the hall that you often rise to tend to. A child most certainly attached to you. Myka, my child was ripped from me in the most horrible of ways, and I cannot - I am not prepared to watch another grow and struggle and love from any sort of close distance. I can't - I simply cannot. I am so sorry, Myka."

"Helena..."

Myka succeeds in crossing to her this time, wrapping her in her arms. Other wounds have healed, but the agony of losing Christina sits open and raw right under the surface of Helena's heart.

"What do you want from me?" Myka asks sincerely. She hopes it is something she can give. "I- I promised Pete-"

"A promise Max is infinitely better for," Helena insists. "But it is not one I can join in now, or possibly ever. And maybe not even one I can idly observe. At least not yet."

"So what does that mean?"

"It means Seattle and not often South Dakota. I love you, Myka, and I cannot let you go, as selfish as that may be."

The words seem superfluous after everything they have been through, but Myka still thrills the few times Helena says them aloud.

"The Regents certainly keep me busy enough; we will just have to make sure we are assigned together more often."

"We do make a good team," Myka admits shakily.

"Bering and Wells."

"Wow. You really _are_ sucking up."

"A little," Helena shrugs, her adorable breezy smile making a brief appearance.

Myka grins a bit at how well she has picked up modern American colloquialisms. She reaches a hand out to take Helena's.

Myka doesn't really know what this means for them. They don't talk about the future, both so incredibly grateful to even have a chance at a present. She doesn't even think about her own future long enough to consider the actual ramifications of her promise to Pete, let alone how far into the future she's allowed to have Helena.

And just how she will reconcile the two.

"How long can you stay?"

"Special permission to assist," Helena says, chipper. "I rather thought that the three of us could close this one together, much like my first mission with Warehouse 13. I'm even willing to work _under_ you."

Myka rolls her eyes and pulls her into her arms. She knows the teasing and flirtation are all bravado to cover the ache that never fully goes away, just waxes and wanes. But she loves it all, bravado and ache, equally.

She tosses Helena's hair back behind her slim shoulder and kisses her neck softly, just once.

Helena sighs.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Helena relaxes against her but shakes her head softly.

"Not yet."

"Okay then," Myka sighs. She won't push, not when her own feelings on _all_ of it are so new and confusing and contradictory. "Come to bed?"

"Please."

* * *

They find the artifact.

It takes two days, and it's wonderful, just like old times. Those old times that are idyllic in their minds, but never really existed for more than a second. Myka's phone buzzes periodically with Pete's pictures, jokes, questions, panics, and HG gamely pretends like she doesn't notice.

When they find the artifact, Myka feels a momentary temptation to let the person holding it run, to extend their time a little longer.

Of course she doesn't give in.

"Woo! Time to go home," Claudia celebrates, shoving the top down on the tub 'o' neutralizer. "Should we get dinner and then hop on the plane?"

"I'm driving, actually," HG says delicately, and Myka pretends it doesn't sting.

"To _South Dakota_?" Claudia gapes.

"Vancouver, as it happens."

"You're not coming home with us?" Claudia asks.

But Claudia isn't dumb, and she notices the pain flit across Myka's face, briefly.

"You know what?" sweet Claudia reverses. "Artie's just gonna make me do inventory, the minute I get back. Let's put that off, yeah? Take another night on the government's dime?"

"Claud, your whole _life_ is on the government's dime," Myka notes.

"_C'mon_," Claudia whines. "I'm a young person in South Dakota, Myka. Have mercy and have a girl's night out with me. I like it here."

Myka knows what she's doing, but she isn't going to be the one to object. Families just meddle, she guesses.

"Perhaps we should have a little fun, Myka," Helena seconds.

"Okay," Myka acquiesces. "But not too late. I'm kinda running low on sleep."

"Aw, that's 'cause Aunt Myka is Maxy's favorite at two a.m."

Myka winces. HG stands so wonderfully close to her (if personal space meant little before with them, these days Helena ignores such concepts completely), and she almost curses Claudia for bringing up the one subject that is sure to ruin their wonderful idyll here. And then she realizes that she wants to curse Claudia for bringing up _Max_ and hurts all over again.

HG, though, surprises her.

"He has excellent taste. Now Claudia, where would you like to go?"

"Ever had a drink at the top of the Space Needle?"

* * *

"Aunt Mykes! Aunt Mykes, I missed you the most!" Pete is making Max say in a ridiculous voice as he puts the one-month-old in her arms.

She smiles despite the glumness that's been with her since leaving Seattle, inhaling Max's sweet scent.

Pete adds in his normal voice:

"Did you have all the fun without me?"

"Just a little," Myka answers.

"Where's HG? I thought she was with you."

"Vancouver."

"Ah. The Regents do keep her busy. But at least Aunt Mykes go to see her HG, huh, Max?"

"I see you survived without me," Myka changes the subject, because she's not sure just how much HG really is _hers_.

"Uh huh. For future reference, Uncle Steve changes a mean diaper, and Aunt Leena sings, by far, the best lullaby. Uncle Steve's just makes him cry more."

"Hey!" Steve calls from the living room.

"And mine he just kinda stares at me like, 'Really, Daddy?' So, Leena's the best."

"Challenge accepted!" Claudia cries on her way to the kitchen. "Next sleepy-time, I'm your girl. As long as his diaper's clean."

She shudders and Pete grins.

"Bring me back an apple!" he yells after her.

"So how was she?" Pete asks softly, watching as Myka rocks Max slowly, maybe as much for her own comfort as for the baby's.

"I don't know."

"Did you talk? Did she explain the disappearing act? I mean, I know the Regents do really keep her busy, but she almost always managed a day or two between assignments. Did she say why?"

"Kinda."

"Max?"

"Mostly."

Pete nods thoughtfully.

"So... Did you..." He waggles his eyebrows.

"Pete!"

"Fine! Sorry," Pete grumbles. He leans forward and covers Max's ears. "Did you-"

Myka smacks his arm with her free hand, barely even jostling Max in her other.

"Hey! Violence! In front of the baby!" Pete yelps.

She rolls her eyes.

"I missed him."

"He missed you, too. So did I. You're still a lot better at this stuff."

"You're getting the hang of it," Myka assures him.

"Hey, if you need to talk-"

"I'm okay. I'm going to take him upstairs. Maybe read to him a little? That's supposed to be good for them."

"Yeah, go, go. I want him to be smart like Aunt Mykes, anyway."

Myka smiles tiredly and goes straight up to Max's room. Max sleeps in Pete's room still, but the rocking chair is in the nursery. She pulls A.A. Milne's _Winnie the Pooh_ from the reading table and begins to read with the poetic inscription:

"_To Her_

_Hand in hand we come_

_ Christopher Robin and I_

_To lay this book in your lap._

_ Say you're surprised?_

_ Say you like it?_

_ Say it's just what you wanted?_

_ Because it's yours-_

_ Because we love you."_

* * *

_tbc_


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Delivered

Author: A. Windsor

Fandom: Warehouse 13

Characters: Myka Bering, HG Wells, Pete Lattimer, with supporting roles from everyone else.

Pairings: Myka/HG, maybe some other ships in a more supporting role, later

Rating: PG?

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. My two years of law school could allow me to legalese this a little more, but it also tells me it's pretty useless. So please don't sue; it's not mine, I'm just playing!

Summary: "I didn't sign up for the Warehouse to mess with us like this."

Author's Note: Beta'd by cacheese, 'cause roughian's still on Season One. Thanks for sticking with me!

* * *

It's what's become a usual evening on their less artifact-y days.

Six-month-old Max is now a master of both rolling and lifting the front half of his body up with his tiny arms. He has both skills on display as he wiggles between his daddy and his Uncle Steve, laying on either side of him. Seeing their zen, calm Agent Jinks wrestle on the floor with a baby is one of the many joys Max has brought into their lives, not to mention the way that Pete pretty much delights in Max's every sneeze.

Tonight, Trailer sniffs around the edge of the blanket where they play, occasionally nudging Max with his nose when the baby gets close. This makes the infant belly laugh in a way that makes all of them (even "Don't Call Me Grandpa" Artie) smile.

Myka sits on the couch next to Claudia, alternating between readings on infant development and artifacts highest on their "most wanted" list. And ignoring the fact that HG hasn't answered any of her texts or calls in three days. While they (whatever _they_ are) have been in "meet in random cities" limbo for months, she stopped the whole Total Avoidance thing after those initial days.

"Good evening, everyone."

Claudia jumps a foot, dumping her laptop into Myka's lap.

"Every _time,_ Mrs. F. Can't you knock?" Claudia complains.

Myka shakes her head and hands the computer back to Claudia before stooping to grab Max, who has rolled over to her feet. She lifts him up on her hip with a practiced motion.

"I'm here to talk to Agent Bering."

So formal.

"About Agent Wells."

Mrs. Frederic's face says everything she needs to know, and Myka's world begins to close in on her.

* * *

Myka is _crying_. That's what Claudia first notices.

It's not a wild sort of sobbing, but they're there: real, unstoppable tears.

It's strange, that that is the first thing Claudia notices, because Myka is also pretty much almost-silently _hyperventilating_, but that's what she notices.

Claudia drops her laptop to the couch and grabs for baby Max. She immediately passes Max off to Steve, though, so that she can put an arm around Myka and pretend that she's not thoroughly freaked out by her sudden burst of emotion.

Which she is, she really, really is.

Because Myka is their rock, minus that brief escape to Colorado Springs. She is logical and calm, and she always has a plan, and she waits for the facts, and all Mrs. Frederic had to do was say "Agent Wells" in that ominous voice of hers and Myka is falling apart.

Of course, HG has always had the power to break her (see above escape to Colorado Springs), and any official, Regent-based news on HG Wells usually means bronzing, disembodiment, betrayal, or... death.

"Hey, you haven't even heard what she has to say," Claudia says, trying to be helpful. She's really out of her depth, because Myka's usually the one comforting her.

"Agent Wells is recovering well."

"Recovering from what?" Myka demands.

"You're being a little unnecessarily cryptic here, Mrs. F."

"Agent Wells was tracking an artifact for us in Lisbon, when she went off our radar three days ago. We retrieved her this morning after finally tracking her to a home outside of the city. She'd been held by the woman who was last in possession of the artifact, who had been unfortunately driven mad by it."

"Three days?" Claudia asks. "Why did it take you so long to find her?"

"Why didn't you tell _us_?" Myka asks, allowing Claudia to hold her tighter.

Mrs. Frederic says nothing.

"Because you thought HG went off the farm again," Pete says. He too has come close to support Myka. Off to the side, Steve is rocking an increasingly fussy Max. "You thought HG went all evil and revenge-y."

"I thought nothing," Mrs. Frederic defends. "I was handling other things and not filled in until late in the retrieval process, or, Myka, I would have told you earlier. But she is well: dehydrated, of course, but her injuries are only minor."

"Take me to her. I want to see her."

"I am afraid I cannot. But I can arrange for you speak with her, if you like."

Myka nods, and Claudia gives her a good squeeze before releasing her.

* * *

"Hi HG."

"Claudia."

"I'm glad you're okay. They didn't tell us, or we would've come and rescued you sooner."

"I know, darling."

"Alright, I'm gonna go now, but here's Myka to yell at you."

"Thank you for setting it up."

"That's my job," Claudia salutes.

Helena takes a deep breath and waits for Myka to appear on the video link.

* * *

"Claudia."

"Mrs. F," Claudia says, closing Myka's bedroom door behind her.

"It's been six months, and there are still no leads on Max's mother, or who found Leena's to leave him here."

"Nope," Clauda responds as nonchalantly as possible. She's getting the distinct feeling that Mrs. F knows exactly what Claudia is doing on the Max's Mother search: namely, not much.

"Don't you find that troubling? We have his DNA and the mother's first name, as well as Agent Lattimer's memories of her. With the Warehouse's vast resources, that should certainly be enough to find her."

"Max is where he belongs."

"He will have questions one day, Agent Donovan," Mrs. Frederic rebukes. "For that reason alone, you must search for something of his origins."

"I'll try, Mrs. Frederic," Claudia acquiesces, duly chastised.

"Good."

"And Mrs. F? HG isn't evil."

"No one-"

"She's just broken. And Max makes it worse. But she loves Myka. I mean, I think she loves all of us. But she _loves_ Myka. And she's not gonna do anything to destroy the world or get her locked up or anything like that. Not with Myka in the world. And it's kinda crappy that you guys took three days to rescue her. I'm just saying."

"Thank you for your input, Agent Donovan," Mrs. Frederic says formally, but she's got that "not even there" smile underneath.

* * *

"Are you okay?" Myka asks, voice breaking.

Helena coughs a little from her dry throat but says:

"Peachy keen, now that I can see you."

"Helena, be serious. I need to know how bad it is before I yell at you."

"In that case, I shall play the invalid. I prefer the lady's worry to her ire."

One look into Myka's watery eyes, though, tells her that dismissive charm is not the way to go. She raises her hand to brush the hair behind her ears, revealing the IV taped to the back. Myka frowns.

"It's alright, darling. Nothing a few more hours of this and a hot bath won't cure. Just bruises and scrapes. I will be just fine. I promise," she says earnestly.

"Okay then," Myka says, taking a deep breath. "How _could_ you? It has to end, Helena. The _solo_ missions, the reckless ones. Working yourself ragged to avoid... You need back up. And a home."

"Myka, I-"

"I have to know if you're okay!" Myka continues to rant. "I have to know if you've been _kidnapped_ and I need to rescue you. And I need to _feel_ you. Even now, you and Mrs. Frederic _say_ you're going to be okay, but I can't stop shaking. All I have is a grainy video feed. I don't even know what continent you're on. This isn't fair, Helena! You can't just run around like it doesn't matter what happens to you. 'Cause it _matters_. _You matter_."

"Myka, I know this is trying, but-"

"Trying? _Trying_? You could have died, Helena. I've been on that brink too many times, and at least then I knew what was going on. One day, I'm going to just get a message and you'll be gone."

"No, Myka, please."

"And I'll wonder if it was all in my head."

"I am doing the best I can!" Helena defends, wincing when her wild gestures pull at the IV line.

"Why were you in Lisbon, alone?"

"I didn't wish to intrude," Helena drops her eyes.

"Your penance is over, Helena. And maybe so is my patience."

"It's not that simple!"

"I don't know what it is, because you still won't talk about it. Which was fine, _five months ago_. But you still avoid the topic, and I still let you."

Myka sighs. She looks up wearily, and Helena curses the distance and her own stupid stubbornness. She wants to hold her, assure her that she can do this for her. That she can ignore the way the very idea of seeing Max every day makes her sick to her stomach, makes her shake with rage and terror.

That she can move on and be whole and be who Myka needs her to be. Who she wants to be.

"Feel better, Helena."

"Myka," she begs, but she has nothing Myka wants to hear. She settles, lamely, for: "My cell phone is working again."

"I'll call tomorrow to check in," Myka sighs, rubbing at her forehead. She leans forward and flicks off the connection.

It feels like a kick to the gut for Helena, and she has plenty of recent experience to be sure of that.

* * *

"Come home."

"Pete, this is none of your business - "

"She needs you," he interrupts, tightening his grip on the cell phone. "She needs you here."

"I would be of no use to her there. I-"

"I know. I can't- I think about it, HG, and I squeeze Max so tight I worry I'll squish him. I can't know, but I know."

"I hope you never do. Hold him tight, Peter, and never let him go."

"I plan on it. But you need to come home."

"I - "

"She cried. She _cried_ when Mrs. F said she had news about you."

HG swallows. She'd seen the tears later, when they were mixed with anger, but to imagine her sweet Myka breaking down in front of everyone... It rips her apart.

"So come home. And to the inn, not the Warehouse, like you've been doing. I'll take Max to my mom's."

"Pete."

But this time it's grateful surprise, not objection.

"Come be with her for a day or two. She's a wreck. Late nights, Max-stress, _you_-stress. Let alone our jobs. She needs you."

"Alright."

"Alright?"

"I'll be there in the morning."

Pete grins.

"And I - I'd like to meet your Max. Briefly. Before you leave for your trip."

"That can be arranged," he says gently.

"Don't tell her."

"I promise."

* * *

tbc


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Delivered

Author: A. Windsor

Fandom: Warehouse 13

Characters: Myka Bering, HG Wells, Pete Lattimer, with supporting roles from everyone else.

Pairings: Myka/HG, maybe some other ships in a more supporting role, later

Rating: PG?

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. My two years of law school could allow me to legalese this a little more, but it also tells me it's pretty useless. So please don't sue; it's not mine, I'm just playing!

Summary: "I didn't sign up for the Warehouse to mess with us like this."

Author's Note: Beta'd by cacheese, 'cause roughian's still on Season Two. This one is a little short, but this was the natural break. There's more to come soon, though!

* * *

"We are being sneaky, Maximus," Pete whispers in his son's ear. He drops his cell phone into his pocket and then finishes off Max's diaper with a flourish. "But it's for a good cause. Aunt Mykes and HG are being stubborn, which is something they have in common. They have a lot of things in common. You wouldn't know that, because you've never met HG. But yeah."

He lifts Max up and above his head, which makes the baby squeal and reach for his face. Pete pulls him down and kisses his cheek, laying him back down on the changing table so that he can zip him into his warm, fuzzy sleeper that claims loyalty to The Ohio State University. The January cold can be creeping in South Dakota.

"Just remember, when we get caught, that this was Aunt Claudia's idea. She's cuter, and therefore gets away with more. Huh. I guess that part doesn't count for you. Maybe we'll say it's your idea."

Max smacks at his hand and Pete says:

"Okay, okay! I won't blame it on you. You spend too much time with Aunt Myka. Okay, story time for Daddy and Maxy." He settles into the rocking chair after retrieving Max's beloved stuffed Pooh, a gift from Aunt Myka. It's half Max's size, but the baby grins upon seeing it and reaches for it. He misses, but Pete snuggles it close to him anyway. Then he does his best dad-juggle and gets their reading material for the evening.

"Tonight, Max. We begin an important story. This is the story, one of the stories, of the beginning of Spiderman."

* * *

Myka doesn't make it downstairs until 7:30am, which is late for her. She's exhausted, physically and emotionally. She was up with Max at 1:00am, again, and the gut-wrenching fear of almost losing Helena made any attempts at meaningful sleep useless. Compounded to the fears of losing her in one blow was the nagging feeling that she was slipping away, piece by piece.

Maybe it was inevitable. Even this time together was an improbable anomaly.

Myka rubs her eyes as she comes into the sunroom.

"He looks very well. And Macsen? Quite the good Welsh name he has, doesn't he? How'd he come by that?"

"That's an excellent question. So it's Welsh?"

"Very."

Myka very nearly pinches herself, sure she can't be awake yet.

Helena is at the breakfast table.

_Holding_ Baby Max.

"Wha- What's going on here?"

"Myka, good morning," HG says too brightly, standing and returning Max to his father in one smooth gesture.

At least it looks smooth to the unfocused eye, but Myka, finely attuned to every part of Helena, notices that her hands are shaking as she gives the baby back.

Helena crosses to her and embraces her.

"I'm still mad."

"Darling, if I waited only for times you weren't somewhat angry with me, our relationship would be quite chaste."

It's a rather depressing truth.

Pete snorts from the other side of the room, which draws Myka's attention to the luggage.

"What an HG way to say: 'Babe, you're always mad'," Pete chuckles.

"Again," Myka demands, "What is going on here?"

"I came to visit, and Pete and young Macsen are off to Grandma's," Helena says, as if that explains _everything_.

"Mom's been nagging me about it for a while," Pete says innocently, strapping the six-month-old into his car seat.

She knows he interfered; she's angrier than she is grateful, but she's definitely both.

Max catches sight of Aunt Myka and whines a little, squirming, reaching for her. She takes a few steps over and lets him grab onto her fingers, which he promptly tries to drag into his mouth.

"Hey," Myka objects. "You've got a pacifier for that."

"Oh, right," Pete realizes, fishing in the front pocket of his shirt and popping the pacifier into Max's mouth. "Okay, we're gonna load up the car and get on the road. HG, it was good to see you. Max was super psyched to meet you." Max smacks himself in the face a couple times to prove the point. "Myka, I will call you when we get to... whatever super secret-y Regent random small town where my mom lives. Woo, Max's first super secret plane ride."

Myka grins fondly. "I'll walk you out." She turns to face Helena, frowning a little when, without the forced smile and the baby-shock, Myka notices the bruises and cuts from Helena's latest scrape. "Leena should be in the kitchen, if you want tea. Or I guess you know where everything is."

"Unless you moved it."

Myka gives a tight smile and grabs a couple suitcases so Pete can make it to his car in one trip.

* * *

They have moved it.

Or not moved it, per se. But all the lovely tea Leena keeps stocked is now haphazardly thrust behind an extremely large supply of white powder that, from the label, she surmises is baby formula.

And there are baby bottles drying by the dozens next to the sink. And a schedule and several of those wonderful post-its all strewn across the refrigerator door, with a short hand system of notes she assumes are about Max.

And pictures. Lots and lots of pictures. A particularly amusing one of Max and Artie in a staring contest. One of Leena and Claudia, with Max dressed as a Christmas elf. Of Steve meditating with a sleeping Max in his lap.

Of Pete holding his son in one arm and a frozen turkey under the other, comparing size. Of Pete and Max asleep in matching sport jerseys on the couch. Half a dozen more of the proud papa and his beloved son.

And then Myka. Myka holding baby Max in a Halloween costume (one of the superheroes Pete fancies, cape included). Myka giving Max a bottle with one hand and flipping through a case file with the other. Max and Myka curled onto one of the arm chairs in the living room as she reads him a book whose title is obscured by her knee.

In them all, Myka is smiling.

HG curses herself for missing all the times that gorgeous smile crossed Myka's lips. For being afraid of a tiny little baby, who in her arms had felt sweet and warm and-

Familiar.

The kettle whistles, and Helena distracts herself, however momentarily, in preparing two cups.

"You don't like my plan?"

"I don't think Artie's going to sign off on an explosion that large, no."

"But I'll have you there, Jinksy! You can use your special ATF experience and tell him it's safe."

"But it's not."

"Pshhh. You're a spoil sport," Claudia dismisses as she walks into the kitchen. "HG would- HG!"

"Good morning, Claudia. Oof, watch the ribs, darling."

Claudia releases HG from her monstrous hug with a sheepish grin.

"Sorry."

"It's quite alright; I've had worse," HG smiles, tugging gently on the end of Claudia's wild hair. Claudia frowns at the bruise high on HG's cheek, the cut above her brow.

"Hello, Steve."

"HG," Steve greets. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Where's Myka?" Claudia asks.

"Hey, Claud."

HG turns to see Myka leaning on the doorframe watching them.

"C'mon," Jinks tugs at Claudia's wrist. "Artie wanted us at the Warehouse five minutes ago."

"Fine. Can I drive?"

"If you really need to," Steve sighs.

"I'll see you later, HG?" Claudia asks hopefully over her shoulder on her way out.

HG nods and shoos her.

"Did the boys get off alright?" she asks, still trying to be extra cheery.

Myka nods, taking a few tentative steps towards her. HG is quiet, wondering what comes next. Myka reaches a hand out to touch the cut above Helena's eye.

"What happened?" she asks softly.

"Yet another person driven mad by an artifact. I am sure Blanca was a lovely woman before she got her hands on that spatula."

"What did she do to you?"

"Myka, don't worry. It's all-"

"No," she says firmly, letting her fingers trace down to the bruise, still ever so soft. "I'm allowed to worry. What happened?"

"She got the jump on me. I spent the next, they tell me _three_, days handcuffed in a basement, occasionally beaten for insolence. Which is unfortunately a personality trait of mine. Rather mild, all things considered. Can't we go upstairs, darling?"

Helena reaches a hand to Myka's shoulder and the morning sun reveals bruises at her wrist, too.

"_Helena_."

"I know we're alone, but I feel rather exposed."

Myka tears her eyes from the bruises and shakes her head.

"Right. Let's go upstairs."

* * *

tbc


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Delivered

Author: A. Windsor

Fandom: Warehouse 13

Characters: Myka Bering, HG Wells, Pete Lattimer, with supporting roles from everyone else.

Pairings: Myka/HG, maybe some other ships in a more supporting role, later

Rating: PG?

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. My two years of law school could allow me to legalese this a little more, but it also tells me it's pretty useless. So please don't sue; it's not mine, I'm just playing!

Summary: "I didn't sign up for the Warehouse to mess with us like this."

Author's Note: Beta'd by cacheese, 'cause roughian's still on Season Two. A little more to help tide us all over to next week's episode.

* * *

After a quiet climb to the second floor, they settle into Myka's room, HG on the bed, Myka retreating to a chair, curling her knees under herself.

"Well, at least I've got the Regents' seal of approval. Again," HG starts, flippant as ever, though it is so very forced. "I guess the whole 'of course we trust you, Agent Wells,' had a caveat of 'unless you disappear for a few days, in which case our first thought will be evil-plotting and not very-kidnapped'."

"If you would take one of us with you every time, _we _would've known the truth," Myka counters, angry. "I would've done _something_."

"I know."

"And I can't protect you if you are running around out there. If I don't know where you are," Myka looks down at her knees. "I probably couldn't even protect you if I did, but - "

"I'm not Sam."

Myka closes her eyes against the tears; Helena has always been able to see right to her soul. It is probably the most terrifying and exhilarating aspect of how their relationship has played out so far.

"But I'll lose you all the same," she breathes out her fears.

"The past is set in stone. Mostly. But we are not doomed to repeat history in the future," Helena argues.

"I could say the same for you. Max isn't Christina."

"No, he's not," Helena sighs. "And I've told myself that a thousand times, because I _want _to be here, Myka. You, all of you but especially _you_, are my family. I've felt more at home here than I have anywhere since long before my bronzing. But I can't. He is wonderful, but he's... too much."

"We can't live this way," Myka says, looking up at the ceiling. "Neither of us."

"You need me here," Helena sums it up, "And I can't be here."

"Ever?"

"I don't know. I've been carrying this weight for so long that I cannot comprehend how to put it down. It... It could be all I have left of her."

Myka springs out of the chair and scrambles into the bed to take Helena in her arms. She says nothing, because she has no words for that kind of sorrow.

"It was _senseless_, Myka," Helena continues, raising a hand to grip tightly to Myka's wrist. "There is no reason that she - and I couldn't save her. I traveled through time just to watch her die with my own eyes. I couldn't keep her safe, not with me, not away from me. Every child reminds me of her. And she reminds me of my failure. My pain and my _rage_. And that ends well for no one."

Myka holds her, because what else can she do? She's not mad at Helena; she's mad at everything else.

She's angry that when Max does something amazing her first instinct is to tell Helena, and then she _doesn't_. She's sad that there is a wedge growing between them, creating a gulf that sometimes seems insurmountable. She's frustrated that the Warehouse dangles love in front of her and seems always poised to rip it away.

She's devastated and full of rage that Christina was ripped from Helena so suddenly and violently and senselessly.

And she's guilty.

Because without losing Christina and the ensuing downward spiral, HG would not have stepped into that Bronzer, and Myka never would have met her. So Myka, try as she might, cannot wholly wish it never happened.

Myka takes a deep breath and attempts to banish her anger. It has no productive use here. She lets her embrace of Helena relax and become less clinging. She presses a kiss to Helena's temple and traces patterns into her shoulder.

"I can't watch you like this forever."

The words slip out before she can catch them. Their implications and insinuations are many, and she hopes Helena interprets them in a non-destructive way.

"I'll go," Helena pulls away, summoning that stiff upper lip.

"Helena, no," Myka grabs her tighter and keeps her close. "I meant you shouldn't have to carry this alone, constantly. You need to talk to someone. Someone who can help more than I can."

"You mean a psychologist," Helena says flatly.

"Yes. In the Secret Service, agents often go to psych to help them handle things, and you've seen ten times what a normal agent sees."

"What exactly could I tell them? That I am haunted by the death of my child over one hundred and twenty years ago? And the whole century in bronze part?"

"We'll find you someone who can know. The Regents have to have someone-"

Helena shudders.

"The Regents' doctor and I have a history."

"Oh. Right. Well, maybe they have another or something. We can work something out. I'm here. I want to hear everything. But I don't know if I can help you find answers."

Helena turns her face into Myka's neck, inhaling deeply.

"You smell of him."

"Max?"

"Mmm."

"Really? I smell like the baby? That's a little rude: Max usually smells like formula and diapers."

Helena grins softly.

"You don't smell of those things, I don't think, though I am uninformed on the modern accoutrements of infant care. But you do. That sweet baby smell."

Myka immediately recognizes what she's talking about. She presses her cheek to Helena's shoulder.

"Tell me about her? Just a little?" she ventures.

Helena smiles sadly, trying to remember.

"When she was Max's age, she was the most difficult of children. Colicky, willful, headstrong."

"Sounds like her mother."

"Oh, ha ha, yes," Helena complains. "But as she grew that settled down. Independent, yes, but so very sweet. Nowhere near the terror I had been at her age. I envied her calm, at times. My port in a storm."

Myka smiles. Helena clears her throat. She leans back against Myka's headboard; Myka goes with her, shoulder to shoulder, reaching down to tangle their fingers.

"And Max? What is he like?"

Myka's grin is involuntary and warm.

"Pete in miniature. But maybe a little less of a handful."

Helena laughs.

"He's happy. And goofy. I don't know if a six-month-old can have a sense of humor, but sometimes I swear - "

"You are quite smitten."

Myka nods, squeezing her hand.

"But when we see each other, you rarely speak of him. I'm sorry if I make you feel like you can't."

"I - "

"Perhaps we should both be a little more open about the children of our lives."

"Yeah, I'd like that."

"Excellent."

"I need another promise," Myka says.

"Yes?"

"No more solo missions. Please. Take me, take an agent, take a regent, whoever. Just bring back up. Someone to make sure you come back okay, or to at least tell me when you don't."

"Myka," Helena scolds. "I have no plans to leave this world without a fight."

"Just promise, please."

"I promise," Helena says seriously. "In fact, I volunteer another promise: I'll do whatever I must to be what you need."

Myka rests her head on Helena's shoulder, and the emotion is evident in her voice:

"You belong here. This team is all the family any of us has, and it's not whole without you."

"And I will try my best to be here someday. Full time. I cannot promise when, but - "

"I don't need when, as long as you're willing to try."

* * *

They pass their afternoon in peace: Lunch in Univille, where Myka is happy to see some of the color return to Helena's face. Then trading stories and inventorying the kitchenware section with Claudia and Steve. Leena's home-cooked dinner and Artie's insistent questions about the spatula and its delusions of grandeur. A movie night where Claudia sits cuddled close to HG, which reminds her that Myka isn't the only one who needs her presence in South Dakota.

It's a wonderful evening, but quiet. Too quiet for a group that is used to a six-month-old and a Pete holding court in their midst. A lovely vacation, but not reality.

Their night is desperate and insistent, relieved and reclaiming, but the reality of Helena's departure hangs heavily on them. Their conversations aren't serious apart from the occasional Christina or Max story; neither has anything to add that won't talk them in circles.

The next day is spent with Myka and Steve doing paperwork and Claudia and HG tinkering with glee. Myka and Helena sneak off for a walk before dinner to enjoy the peaceful if very cold afternoon, bundled up against the winter chill.

After dinner, Mrs. Frederic comes to collect HG Wells.

More Regent business, she says, but this time "I personally assure her safety, Agent Bering." It seems even Mrs. Frederic was affected by Myka's earlier reaction.

Helena takes her leave of the others with jokes and requests and instructions on wiring whatever it is she and Claudia were plotting. But she leaves Myka with a kiss, an embrace, and a simple promise:

"I'll try."

* * *

tbc


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Delivered

Author: A. Windsor

Fandom: Warehouse 13

Characters: Myka Bering, HG Wells, Pete Lattimer, with supporting roles from everyone else.

Pairings: Myka/HG, maybe some other ships in a more supporting role, later

Rating: PG?

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. My two years of law school could allow me to legalese this a little more, but it also tells me it's pretty useless. So please don't sue; it's not mine, I'm just playing!

Summary: "I didn't sign up for the Warehouse to mess with us like this."

Author's Note: Beta'd by cacheese, 'cause roughian's still on Season Three. (hurry, Lala, hurry!)

* * *

"I am not exactly thrilled to be _here_," HG Wells says dryly, playing idly with the ring on her middle finger.

"Then why are you?"

"The Regents told me you were my only option. The only one with the proper clearance. They still have quite a bit of power and control over many aspects of my life, and I much prefer to save any cache of defiance I have for more important battles to be fought."

"So why now?"

HG removes her "smart" phone from her pocket and taps a few times before handing it over. She watches cautiously as the picture, a snap of Myka and Max asleep together on the couch that Claudia sneaked to her, leaves her control.

"Ah. There has been much talk of Max Lattimer among the Regents."

"He's important to her. She is important to me."

Dr. Zhang nods, waiting for her to say more. When she doesn't, she says:

"You don't trust me, Helena."

"No. That tends to happen when someone asks you a million searching questions and then recommends you be split in two."

"I completely understand," Dr. Zhang says, in her almost gratingly soothing voice. Almost, but not quite. "The arrangement is certainly not ideal, but it is what we are given. We must repair _our_ trust before we can begin to work on anything else. It will be a long road. Are you prepared to work with me on it?"

"Anything to get me home."

"That is your end goal? To move back into Leena's?"

"To stop punishing Max, and Myka, for awful crimes others committed several lifetimes ago."

Dr. Zhang looks impressed.

She probably wasn't expecting such forthrightness already, but Helena does a lot of soul searching on a regular basis: this is just the first time she has been committed to doing something with her self-analysis.

"I am willing to work as well, and I begin with an apology about my role in the Janus coin."

"I - thank you."

"Of course. Okay." Dr. Zhang takes in a deep breath and opens her notebook. "We'll start at where you and I last intersected. Tell me about Emily Lake."

* * *

It's been almost a month since their time in the B & B. They have seen each other twice, for a brief night in Jacksonville and a weekend in Sacramento. They've established a nightly (Univille time) phone call to check-in, missed only with apologies and usually with advanced warning. The phone calls are usually the highlight of Myka's day, but tonight she's a little distracted.

"Hey, sorry," she answers on what must be the last ring before voicemail.

"Are you alright, darling?" Helena asks.

"Yeah, fine. He's just - He won't stop crying, Helena," Myka says, hurriedly, desperately. "All day, and everyone is gone and - I think there's something wrong and I have no idea what and he looks so unhappy. I don't know what to - "

"Take a deep breath, Myka."

Helena can hear Max's pitiful wails over the line, and the panic in Myka's voice. Her heart contracts with sympathy for both of them.

"Is he warm?"

Myka fumbles with the phone to feel Max's forehead and cheeks.

"Yeah, a little? But he's been crying for ten hours, Helena. That could be from that. Hell, _I'm_ warm."

"Of course," HG says soothingly. "How many teeth does he have?"

"How many - what?"

"How many teeth, love. Is there a chance he is teething?"

"He doesn't have any, yet."

"Ah. He's seven months, about, yes?"

"Yeah."

"That is certainly right on schedule. Do you have something for him to gnaw? Preferably something you can freeze first so that it will soothe his poor gums. Many children are also partial to fingers, though that can be surprisingly painful for the fingers."

"Oh. _Of course_. Teething," Myka groans. "I should've known that."

"It is often difficult to think outside of the moment when they are in such pain. Now go. Care for his traitorous gums. I'll call you back in, say, an hour? We can even dare to dream that he'll be sleeping by then."

"Thanks, Helena. Thank you _so_ much."

"Of course, Myka. Godspeed."

* * *

"He's asleep," Myka answers the phone breathlessly on the first ring. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

"You're very welcome," HG chuckles. "Have you been alone with him all day?"

"Yeah. Pete, Steve, and Claudia are in Des Moines, and Leena is freaking out about the karmic alignment of the dark sector or something, so she and Artie have been at the Warehouse, all day."

"Ah. I see. Well, I'm glad to help you both find some peace."

"That was a great trick, the cold. Leena actually bought him a few rings with gel that go in the freezer, so I found those."

"Very interesting! Cool, but soft. There certainly have been quite a lot of advances in the one hundred and thirty years since I was raising an infant."

Myka laughs. "You still seem to know what you're doing. I'm kinda lost, sometimes."

"I rarely had Christina on my own for very long. There was always the housekeeper or the cook or a couple of maids, all of whom had years more experience than I did. I didn't even pretend to mother my dolls as a child: I staged elaborate plays with them. When Christina came, I was quite at a loss."

Myka, tucked into her bed with the phone cradled to her ear, weighs whether to ask her next question. Exhausted and loving the sound of Helena's voice in her ear, telling stories of the past, she takes a chance. After only a month with Dr. Zhang, Helena has started to (incrementally) reveal more about her past.

"What about Christina's father?"

There is a pause on the other end, and Myka wonders if she pushed too far.

"He was not a factor," Helena finally says. "An immature indiscretion with a much older man who did not deserve to even know her, nor would he be interested if he had known. Apart from my dear, well-meaning but utterly helpless, brother, I was the only family she had. I am told that is a more common occurrence these days, but I assure you then it was not."

"I think that's pretty brave."

"Perhaps. Also, quite foolish. Thankfully, it only added to Charles's fame to have him take in and care for his scandalous sister and her daughter. He was cast as the philanthropist; I, the gossip-inducing charity project. But I must say I am grateful for Charles, as much as we irked each other."

Myka smiles, taking in the gift that Helena is giving her, savoring it.

"Thank you. For telling me all of that."

"The more people know of her," Helena says simply, "The more people there are to carry on her memory."

* * *

Pete returns to Leena's at three in the morning.

Before, a projected arrival that late would prompt him to spend the night in a hotel and return in the morning, but these days, he doesn't like to spend an unnecessary second away from Max.

He creeps into the nursery and finds Max sound asleep in his nursery, limbs flung spread-eagle and pacifier hanging precariously from the side of his mouth like a mobster's cigar. There's a pile of neatly (anally) folded clothes on the changing table.

"Ooh, Aunt Mykes did us a solid," Pete whispers. Then he grins; he's definitely turned into a totally dorky dad, the kind that talks to his baby even after he's asleep.

He makes sure they're all stocked up on diapers and wipes for the next day.

Of course they are: Myka and Leena have had him for the last few days, and they are by far the most organized of his aunts and uncles. He probably had scheduled tummy time and scheduled meals and an enrichment hour every three. Heck, he wouldn't be surprised if Max woke up reading tomorrow. Aunt Mykes and Aunt Leena have got it together.

At least until Maxy got his very unscheduled first bout of teething.

Pete leans into the crib and kisses his son's forehead. He loves his work, but it always feels like he's leaving a huge chunk of his heart behind in Univille. This assignment also included yet another close-ish brush with mortal danger. He knows that no matter what, Max will be well taken care of by people that love him, but he always feels the need to hug his son extra tight after a day like today.

But in the morning.

Because not even he is a crazy enough dad to undo all of the hours of work Myka put into getting Max to sleep. Besides, he'll be up in a couple hours anyway, and Pete plans on beating Myka to the crib so she can sleep in.

On the way out the door, Pete trips on a firetruck. He grins, remembering HG awkwardly handing it over ("For Max. It lights up!") when she last crashed his bag'n'tag in Sacramento.

Myka had pretty much melted into a pile of super-smitten-Myka-goo on the spot. Pete had momentarily been jealous that half of Myka's away missions ended in booty calls these days, until he remembered _why_ that is. Pete gets annoyed with HG's separation from the rest of the team, and the effect it has on everyone, especially Myka.

But he can't - _won't_ - imagine her pain, and he refuses to be anything but as patient as possible with her.

* * *

tbc


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Delivered

Author: A. Windsor

Fandom: Warehouse 13

Characters: Myka Bering, HG Wells, Pete Lattimer, with supporting roles from everyone else.

Pairings: Myka/HG, maybe some other ships in a more supporting role, later

Rating: PG?

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. My two years of law school could allow me to legalese this a little more, but it also tells me it's pretty useless. So please don't sue; it's not mine, I'm just playing!

Summary: "I didn't sign up for the Warehouse to mess with us like this."

Author's Note: Beta'd by cacheese, 'cause roughian's still on Season Three. (hurry, Lala, hurry!) Hopefully a little advancement in the plot.

* * *

"Tell me about Myka."

"Excuse me?" Helena asks.

Dr. Zhang defends her non sequiter:

"She is why you are here. I've read your file several times, and we have been meeting weekly for almost five months. I know your history: a string of often intellectually stimulating partners who were, emotionally, of little to no consequence. Certainly none that inspire such introspection on your part. And few that lasted anywhere close to as long as Myka Bering. So. She is clearly very important to you."

"Yes."

"We don't talk about the how. We don't talk about what it was like to wake up a hundred years in the future and - "

"Fall in love?"

"Yes," Dr. Zhang smiles.

"Myka saved me. Myka believed in me when no one, especially myself, did. Even after I betrayed her. I don't really believe now that I was worthy of her second, third, fourth chances, but I'm long past selflessly walking away. Or even selfishly walking away."

"So, she was the first friendly face after a century in bronze?"

HG laughs, loudly, then shakes her head.

"Myka and I had our first half dozen conversations at the barrel of each other's guns. In California, she tried to choke me."

"So explain it to me."

"At first, Myka was a useful tool. Then? She was a challenge. And then, the most unexpected ally, who finally believed that I was still a person inside, a person worthy of her respect and defense and eventually, also unexpectedly, her love."

Dr. Zhang nods.

"You have lived almost a year separate from her."

"Nearly eleven months. Max turns one next month, and he was three weeks old when he arrived at the Warehouse. I've been invited to the party."

"Do you plan on attending?"

"I - yes. It would mean so very much to Myka."

"And what would it mean to you?"

"A step. A step closer to rejoining them."

"How do you feel about that?"

"Good. Anxious. Myka speaks of him quite frequently. I almost feel as if I know him. A person, not an abstract. As we have said, living my life now does not unseat Christina's memory. But that memory needn't be crippling."

"So you've chosen the birthday party as your first step towards integration."

"I'll sleep at the Warehouse most likely, but yes. I believe I am ready."

"So why wait?"

Helena looks up from the locket in her hand.

"Excuse me?"

"If you're ready, why wait?"

"I-"

Helena stands abruptly.

"Are we done?" Dr. Zhang asks as HG crosses to the door.

"I need to pack."

"You have my number if you need it."

* * *

Pete had been drafted into paperwork over many objections. Even the "I really should go home to be with Max" excuse hadn't worked. Myka glared and Pete obeyed. Myka and Claudia get to roam around the Warehouse inventorying and Pete fills out field reports which are _so_ more of Myka's thing.

Well, "filling out" reports is really overstating it. It's more stare at the open document, spin in the chair, and throw his pen around. So the proximity alert over at the inn is a welcome distraction. It was installed not long after Max's arrival and is designed to ding once in the office and then, if unanswered, sends a general alarm to the floor.

Maybe the proximity alert going off should worry the father of the boy the alarm was installed to protect, but the usual culprits are: lost dogs, very large squirrels, the occasional Jehovah's Witness, and Max and Leena returning from grocery shopping (because Lena's hands are too full to use the fob they all carry to prevent an alert).

Pete pulls the video feed up, eager to see any of those things (especially the latter because he really does miss Max even when he's just gone for a few hours).

None of those things are what is setting the alarm off however. When Pete sees who is, a broad grin spreads across his face and he reaches for his Farnsworth.

"Hey Mykes? It's time to go home."

"Pete, it is the middle of the day."

"Just trust me; it's time to go."

* * *

Max greets her at the door, followed by a breathless Leena saying: "Max, wait!"

Leena freezes when she sees who is at the door, then softens.

"HG, hi. Sorry: he's just started walking and he's very fast!"

Helena smiles and shakes her head.

"No worries." She squats down. "Hello, Max. It is very good to see you again. You have grown quite a bit since I last saw you."

Max grins shyly, revealing a smattering of teeth, and unsteadily balances himself with a hand on Leena's leg.

Helena expected pain when she saw him, a sharp dagger of memory, the consuming ache of Christina.

But she doesn't feel any of that.

She sees Max, as she's seen him grow in five months of pictures. She sees Myka, beaming proudly, adoringly, as she chronicled every new achievement or everyday story.

When Max takes a wobbly step forward to investigate this newcomer, Helena sees Myka, just two weeks ago showing her the video of Max's first few steps (a couple lunges out of Pete's arms towards a retreating Trailer, with Claudia laughing in the background.: "Watch out, Tray. Soon there will be nowhere to hide from Baby-zilla"). Myka, curled into Helena at a hotel in Charleston, played the video on repeat, delighting in his milestone. A mother, or close enough.

Helena extends a gentle hand as he approaches, and he grabs on when a foot almost slips from under him. A dull throb is there, remembering, wishing for, all those moments with her daughter. That undercurrent will probably never go away completely. But she steps into it and through it, and she grins widely at the infant who is currently sizing her up with wide brown eyes and very serious expression.

"I am quite curious, am I not? I think you do not meet many new people."

Leena laughs. "He doesn't."

"Well, could you escort me to the sitting room, young Master Lattimer? I know Aunt Leena has some tea sitting around here somewhere."

"C'mon, Max," Leena encourages, beckoning him to follow her. He does, keeping a hold of HG's fingers for balance. "Let's go get HG some tea and cookies."

Helena stands as Max picks up the pace at the word cookies. He gives an excited grunt and babble.

"Yes, you can have a cookie, too," Leena calls.

"Where are the others? In town?" HG asks hopefully. "Or out on business?"

"The Warehouse," Leena tells her. "I could call them..."

"No, no. Don't bother them. I believe Max and I have some catching up to do. Oh, Max, do remind me when we get to the living room: I've brought you a gift."

* * *

"You take _so long_."

"Pete, we are in the middle of the work day. I miss Max, too, but-"

"We're just going home for lunch! Lunch with Maxy, okay? This is important. It's bonding time."

"You just want to get out of paperwork," Myka grumbles good-naturedly, though of course she isn't going to put up any real objection to a few hours of baby time. The older Max gets, the more personality he develops, the more she enjoys spending time with him. He's just learned uncoordinated, full-body hugs, and it's the most amazing thing in the world.

So she is easily convinced to come with him, even if she puts up a token objection. She figures Pete is just being Pete when he speeds a little on the way home and hurries her out of the car.

Then she hears a so-very-familiar laugh as she walks in the front door.

Pete grins wickedly, and then she pays no more attention to Pete, hurrying to the living room and then freezing.

"I'm very glad you like it, Max," Helena is laughing.

Laughing.

She's tense, Myka can see, but Helena is seated on the floor with Max cuddled into her lap, flying a toy helicopter around him. Max is enraptured, grabbing after it and giggling. The smile on Helena's face is delightfully genuine as she makes the helicopter dive bomb him once more. Max wrestles the helicopter from her grasp and twists in her lap to return the favor of buzzing the toy around her.

"Whoa, Max, do you have a visitor?" Pete asks, sitting down on the rug beside them. He takes one of the cookies Leena offers before she leaves the group on the rug to come to Myka's side. "And cookies?!"

"She just got here," Leena says softly, the only explanation Myka gets.

"Dada!" Max exclaims, using one of his two or three words. He thrusts the helicopter into Pete's hands and then tugs on Helena's collar, as if to demonstrate the source of this fascinating new item.

"Yeah, I know! Did you say thanks to HG?" Pete asks as he spins the rotors.

"His squeal of delight was thanks enough. Hello, Pete."

"Hey," Pete says warmly. "It's really good to see you. Max, HG got you the firetruck you love so much, too. The one that drive Aunt Mykes crazy."

"My'es!" Max employs his second word.

"Yep. And look who I brought you," Pete hooks his thumb over his shoulder.

Two pairs of brown eyes look up in unison, with equal devotion and affection.

"My'es!" Max repeats, overjoyed, as Helena says, more softly, "Hello, Myka."

Max squirms out of Helena's lap and onto his feet, using any part of Pete and Helena he can get his hands on. Babbling, he run-stumbles to his aunt's feet, throwing himself into her shins. She stoops to pick him up, since that is the easiest part of this situation to process. He keeps talking, clearly trying to communicate _something_ to her, though his vocabulary of "Dada", "My'es", and "ball" cannot convey it.

Helena has also risen, more gracefully. Her hands rub nervously at the tops of her thighs, and Myka feels her gaze on her. She meets her eyes.

"Everything has to be so dramatic with you, doesn't it?" Myka finally says, smile spreading from her lips to her eyes.

Helena relaxes, beaming.

"Never a dull moment, darling, and you love me that way."

"You're damn lucky I do," Myka laughs, shaking her head and kissing Max's temple.

"Hey! Watch the language!" Pete objects.

* * *

tbc


	9. Chapter 9

Title: Delivered

Author: A. Windsor

Fandom: Warehouse 13

Characters: Myka Bering, HG Wells, Pete Lattimer, with supporting roles from everyone else.

Pairings: Myka/HG, Claudia/Leena if you're inclined to see it.

Rating: PG?

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. My two years of law school could allow me to legalese this a little more, but it also tells me it's pretty useless. So please don't sue; it's not mine, I'm just playing!

Summary: "I didn't sign up for the Warehouse to mess with us like this."

Author's Note: Beta'd by cacheese, 'cause roughian's still catching up. I am hoping this will maybe bring a little cheer to everyone.

* * *

It's mid-July when Helena arrives unexpectedly, and while the heat is unbearable in other parts of the country, it's actually fairly pleasant in the shade in South Dakota. So while Pete wrangles Max down for a nap and Leena disappears to get some painting done, Myka and Helena escape to the backyard.

Settled under a fir, a blanket underneath them, Helena watches the sun first filter through the needles, then dance in Myka's curls. She twirls a dandelion in her fingers and waits for her to say something. Anything.

"What are you _doing_ here?" Myka finally bursts.

Helena narrows her eyes. Not the sweet nothing she was waiting for, really, but a valid question nonetheless.

"I believed I was always welcome," she says dryly.

"Of _course_ you are," Myka says quickly. "Of course. I didn't mean - I just. I thought we would have at least talked about it before you were ready to come back. And are you back? Like, back-back?"

Myka's voice is so sweetly hopeful.

"Ah. A trial run, perhaps. Baby steps, as it were, although the baby is already walking," Helena admits gently. "I'll stay for some days, if you'll have me. But perhaps I'll sleep in the Warehouse, if that's alright. To start."

"I'll stay with you," Myka offers.

"Oh, I don't wish to keep you from Max."

"He's got a whole house of people here to look out for him. Plus, Pete's home; I'm just back-up. I'll stay with you," she insists.

"I'd like that," Helena gives a soft smile. She extends a hand, which Myka takes and kisses the back of lovingly.

"Why now?" Myka asks, keeping her hand in hers, dropping them, joined, to her lap.

"I was planning to come to his birthday, believing myself ready. And Dr. Zhang asked why, if I was ready, I was delaying. I could think of no reason, so here I am."

"I'm glad you are. And how - How are you feeling?"

Helena closes her eyes and tilts her face towards the fingers of light from above.

"He is wonderful. As sweet and sunny as you described. And quite curious. Leena had to pull him out of my bag several times."

"Yeah," Myka laughs. "No boundaries, just like his father."

"Yes, the resemblance is uncanny, and not merely physical." Helena takes a breath. "When I am with him, I see him. Just him. Or rather, him, and you." She lowers her eyes to meet Myka's. "You are an inextricable part of him. At least for me. It is... a step in the right direction. And it is good to be home, for however long."

"It is good to have you here. Though, you know, you _can_ call first sometimes," Myka teases, bumping Helena's shoulder with her own.

"But darling, the surprise is half the romance."

"Writers," Myka rolls her eyes affectionately.

"You feign annoyance," Helena says, leaning in, hand slipping across Myka's lower back. "But I know it was part of my allure. I know how many of my books you have secreted away in your nightstand."

Myka grins and kisses her warmly, fingertips sliding into her hair. Helena pushes in closer, feeling her eyelashes flutter against her cheek as she deepens the kiss.

Helena does feel home.

For now.

* * *

"Honey, I'm home," Claudia sing-songs as she steps through the front door. "Hello?"

"Hush," Leena admonishes, popping out of the sunroom. "Pete is trying to get Max down for a nap."

"Oops, sorry," Claudia eeps. She grins affectionately and leans over to wipe a stray stripe of paint from Leena's cheek with her thumb. "What happened to Pete and Myka? When they didn't come back for a while, I decided to take a lunch break myself before Artie and Steve could make me help them in the Dark Vault."

"Like I said," Leena informs her, taking her by her upper arm and pushing her out towards the sunroom and away from the stairs. "Pete is putting Max down for a nap. And Myka is out in the backyard with HG."

"What? HG is here?" Claudia perks up, turning abruptly and moving to bound, puppy-like, towards the back. Leena grabs her belt and yanks her back.

"She just got here. I don't know why she's here or for how long, but she was playing with Max."

"Whoa, really? Alright! I knew she'd come around to Maxy."

"Yes, and right now you're going to leave them alone back there."

"Oh, right. For the kissing and what not," Claudia says, faux-seriously, although she is practically bouncing with her giddiness over HG's arrival.

Leena shakes her head, grinning. "Sure."

"So, will you make me a grilled cheese?"

Leena sighs.

"What? C'mon, you make the best grilled cheese, Leena. Please."

"Fine."

"Score! Thanks."

"But you're keeping me company in the kitchen."

Claudia salutes and follows after, momentarily distracted by the easel set up in the corner, craning her neck back.

"Hey, that one landscape is looking great!"

* * *

"So you have no leads on Max's mother, still?" Helena asks.

"Nope," Claudia shakes her head, rolling the soft ball in her hand across the floor. "We've even used the Regents' databases and called in a couple Secret Service favors. Nothing. Which is weird. Not even any possible close relative matches with the DNA. Like he appeared out of nowhere."

The ball is handed back, and Claudia rolls it again. HG wrinkles her brow.

"Are you playing 'fetch' with the child?" she asks, watching Max toddle after the ball his aunt has been rolling for him for the last five or so minutes.

Claudia looks sheepish.

"Tray's playing too! So that makes it okay."

Trailer is laying in the doorway to the kitchen as if he is blocking Max from wandering in to where his father and Steve are doing dishes. He hasn't moved in fifteen minutes, and his ears perk up skeptically at the sound of his name.

Helena raises her eyebrows, equally skeptical.

"Hey, Aunt Claud is gonna be awesome once he's talking and appreciating music and liking computers. Well, he does already love the iPad. But still. I'm just not good at the baby thing, huh, Maxy?"

Claudia belies her words by lifting Max into her lap and kissing his cheek.

"But I'm learning, right, dude? Can you say Aunt Claudia? Clau-di-a," she sounds out. Max shakes his head. "What about Claud?" Max blows a raspberry.

"You have many difficult consonants. He will pick it up soon. They learn remarkably quickly," HG assures her.

"Eena!" Max declares, clapping his hands, as Leena enters the room.

"Man!" Claudia groans. She throws her head back and lifts Max into the air in offering. "Aunt Leena, we've got another one."

"Eena!" Max giggles, enjoying the reaction he has elicited from Aunt Claudia.

Leena gasps and snatches the baby.

"Good boy, Max! We've been working on that one all week."

Leena kisses his head, and he beams under the attention of all these adoring women. She lowers Max to her hip and rubs Claudia's shoulder consolingly.

"Still no Claudia?"

"No," Claudia pouts.

"It'll come," Leena promises.

"Eena, Eena," Max sings happily.

HG smiles and steals Max from Leena's arms, tutting:

"Don't rub it in, Macsen."

She allows Max to stand on her thighs, which he seems to greatly appreciate, bouncing happily.

"Claudia," Leena says, suddenly a bit stern, as if remembering why she came in here in the first place. "The washer is acting up again. You need to fix it."

"Might I be of service?" HG asks, even as she spots Max in his gymnastic balancing act.

"Thank you, HG, but the washer is acting up because Claudia was tinkering with it. So she needs to be the one to fix it."

"I made it better," Claudia argues even as she stands to comply.

"_When _it works. _If _it works."

"What's wrong with it?" Claudia asks, already heading towards the laundry room, Leena close behind

"I'll have to show you." Leena pauses in the doorway, turning back. "Are you okay with him?"

Leena gives her the look that usually means she is both asking the question and reading her aura, which is a bit disconcerting.

"I think we'll manage. His father is just in the other room."

There is a crash in the kitchen, followed by quite a bit of bickering.

"If you're sure," Leena gives her one last out.

"Go. Before Claudia does any more damage. You know how we are."

Leena smiles and takes her leave.

Max continues to bounce for a few moments, then starts swiveling his head around. She waits for the meltdown when he realizes all of his family has left the room, but it doesn't come. Instead, he throws himself towards her, one arm around her neck.

"Well, thank you," she says, surprised. The pang flares briefly at the wondrous feeling of the freely give affection of a child. Christina had -

"I think he likes you," Myka says softly.

Helena looks up to find Myka watching them with warm eyes, hair wet from the shower, curling around her shoulders.

"I am getting that feeling, yes."

Myka slides onto the couch next to them.

"He can tell you're one of us."

"Perhaps."

Worn out from the bouncing and the fetch, Max rests his cheek against HG's shoulder and turns sleepy eyes to Aunt Myka.

"Hey, buddy," Myka smiles beautifully. "Do you like your new friend? It's 'cause she brings nice presents, isn't it? She doesn't bring _me_ so many presents."

Max's fingers curl into Helena's shirt, and Helena reaches a hand up to warmly brush his back. The ache is good, half-remembering, half-enjoying.

"You should take him," Helena says after a few minutes of quiet, when the ache becomes too much.

"No, no, he seems - "

"Please."

As if remembering the context, Myka leaps into action, scooping Max up and onto her shoulder, her hand replacing Helena's on his back, soothing any half-asleep irritation at the transfer.

"Sorry."

"No! No. Myka, it has been a lovely evening. One of my best in a long time," she promises. "I'm very glad to spend time with him. With all of you."

"Okay," Myka sighs, rocking Max gently. She leans over Helena and snatches a pacifier from the side table. Max eagerly takes it into his mouth, replacing his head on her shoulder. "You ready to go to sleep, Max? I think so. How about you snooze so Aunt Mykes can go with HG to the Warehouse."

"You don't have to-"

"I'm going," Myka says firmly. "If he doesn't fall asleep before Pete's done, he can take over."

"If you're sure."

"Positive. Let me get him settled upstairs and we can head out."

Myka bends to kiss Helena warmly and then turns to go.

"Say goodnight, Max."

Max blinks sleepily over Myka's shoulder, and Helena gives him a little wave.

Not long after they have disappeared upstairs, Pete finally emerges from the kitchen, shirt soaked and an annoyed Steve in tow.

"I can't believe you're entrusted with the life of another human being," Steve grumbles as he continues on to the stairs.

Pete grins and flops onto the couch next to Helena.

"Have you seen my human being?"

"Myka took him up to get him to sleep," Helena says dryly.

"Nice. I should go help with that, let you two head off. Oh!" He digs in his pocket and then fishes out what appears to be a jumble of key chains. "For the Pete Cave. I added a couch. It folds out into a bed, and it's way comfier than the cots. And way further from Artie."

"Thank you..." Helena says slowly, knowing of the Pete Cave only in passing and therefore unsure of just what she is walking into.

"She's not the same without you," he says, apropos of nothing, but earnest all the same. "So, thanks. For being here. Anyway, she knows how to get in. Just, use the Pete Cave for good and not evil."

Helena gives him an unimpressed look.

"Okay, yeah. Awkward joke. I'm sorry. Whatever. Have fun storming the castle. Don't drink all my cream soda."

* * *

tbc


	10. Chapter 10

Title: Delivered

Author: A. Windsor

Fandom: Warehouse 13

Characters: Myka Bering, HG Wells, Pete Lattimer, with supporting roles from everyone else.

Pairings: Myka/HG, Claudia/Leena if you're inclined to see it.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. My two years of law school could allow me to legalese this a little more, but it also tells me it's pretty useless. So please don't sue; it's not mine, I'm just playing!

Summary: "I didn't sign up for the Warehouse to mess with us like this."

Author's Note: Beta'd by cacheese, 'cause roughian's still catching up.

* * *

"He makes me feel closer to her," Helena admits into the silence.

Myka, pillowed on her shoulder, stays quiet, waiting for more, fingers tracing patterns into her hip, warm through the cotton sheet.

"In a good way, I think," Helena continues. "But it is so very hard."

"Thank you. For trying. It means so much that - "

"I promised I would. And I won't stop." Helena sighs, hand tangled in Myka's curls. "This is quite the interesting space."

Myka laughs, kissing her shoulder.

"Yeah. Not quite sure why he has it. But it's nice for an escape, when he is willing to let someone else in. Now he kinda uses it as a playroom if Max is with him."

She gestures to the pack'n'play, walker, and various toys thrown in a corner of the small room.

"There are pieces of Max everywhere," Helena comments. Myka stiffens. "But that is how it is with a child. They are extraordinarily small, but they overwhelm any place they frequent."

"That's true. I thought Artie was going to blow a gasket the first time he sat on one of Max's loud toys."

"Toys have certainly gotten far noisier since my time," Helena chuckles.

Myka smiles and snuggles closer, still struggling to believe any of today is real. Well, most days she should question the reality of her life: tracking down magical antiques, almost-parenting a one-year-old, hopelessly in love with _the _HG Wells (a nearly one-hundred-and-fifty-year-old woman), and living in _South Dakota_. Today is just especially unreal.

"I'm so happy you're here," she finally says softly.

Helena's fingers trip across Myka's bare back and then return to her hair, sweetly twisting.

"Me too, darling. Me too."

* * *

"Here, you take him, Gramps," Claudia groans, arms aching from bouncing Max, sobbing and gasping, for the last hour.

Pete and Steve were sent to Nebraska for a quick snag-n-bag, Myka and HG haven't come back from the Warehouse yet, and Leena was grocery shopping. Somehow Claudia and Artie, the first to tell you they were the least competent, have been left on Max-duty.

"No, no. You're doing a great job," Artie recoils. "You're much better suited for it."

"Why? Because I'm a _woman_?" Claudia demands, annoyance only half-feigned. "Artie the Pooh, I am _very_ disappointed. You're so much softer and cuddlier than Aunt Claudia. Right, Maxy? You wanna go to Grandpa Artie?"

Artie sputters and searches for excuses. Max is usually a good sport about playing along with Claudia's jokes (at least for a baby), but right now he is just _angry: _screaming_, _red-faced, miserable.

"C'mon, Artie. I can't feel my arms."

She doesn't really give him a choice, dumping Max into Artie's lap unceremoniously (but of course carefully). Artie throws down the file in his hands in order to catch and steady the eleven-month-old. He glares at Claudia, but even he, baby-incompetent, is not immune to Max's pitiful wails. He rubs the boy's back.

"Well, okay, Max. It's going to be okay," he soothes lamely.

Max just cries harder.

"We suck at this," Claudia concludes. "Someone will come take over soon, right?"

"Yes," Artie says resolutely, continuing to pat Max, though it seems to be calming _no one_. "Leena. Or Myka and HG."

As much as it pulls at her heart strings, Claudia has actually gotten quite good at ignoring the wailing to get things done. She snatches up the abandoned file and skims it. Finding it amazingly _boring_, she drops it back to the table.

"You think HG is gonna stick around this time?" she asks instead.

"That's not any of our business," Artie reproaches, still eying Max warily, raising his voice above the din.

"I mean, it kinda is," Claudia counters. She pulls open her netbook and keys into the Warehouse network. "I'd love for her to stay, but it would definitely change things. On the plus side, less pining Myka and artifact booty calls."

"Please _stop talking. _Especially about that." Artie groans, shifting Max around so that the boy faces outward.

As he does so, Max's attention zeroes in on the lines of code streaming across Claudia's screen. He hiccups and whimpers a few times, but then stops crying. His hand closes around the sleeve of Artie's shirt and he peers forward, leaning so much that Artie has to snatch him around the waist.

"Whoa," Claudia exclaims. "That was baby magic. Do you think it was-" She experimentally lowers the laptop screen. Max squawks and fusses.

"Don't do that!" Artie demands.

"I think we've got another little computer geek on our hands," Claudia beams, opening up the screen again. Max claps. Her smile grows even wider.

"Or he just likes all the colors and fast movement," Artie grumps.

"Sure, sure," Claudia nods. She twists back to Max and offers her fist.

"Tiny baby fist bump for the computer geeks," she half-whispers conspiratorially. Max sloppily complies.

"No, no! You are not indoctrinating him into your techno mumbo jumbo," Artie complains, but he doesn't move Max away from the screen, lest the crying commence again.

"Oh man, Maxy," Claudia grins. "Just wait until you've got the hand-eye coordination to type.

* * *

The computer keeps the magical peace for the next twenty minutes. They get a low level ping in Istanbul, which makes Max squeal in delight, and even Artie chuckles at that. The only thing more exciting than the computer, it seems, is Aunt Myka.

"My'es! My'es!" Max cries as she calls a hello from the front door.

Artie puts the squirming boy down so he can run to her.

"Good morning, Max!" Myka catches him a few steps into the sunroom, lifting him up to kiss him. "How did you sleep?"

Max smiles and babbles and grabs at her curls.

"See, he shows no sign of crying _all_ morning now, does he?" Claudia complains.

"Oh no, Max? What's up?" Myka asks, but Max is uninterested in the conversation, catching sight of the woman behind her. He waves to HG enthusiastically.

"Hello, Max," HG chuckles, reaching forward to shake the boy's extended, waving hand.

Max giggles and throws his arms around Myka's neck.

"Max is happy to have a new person to look at," Claudia laughs.

"Was he really that upset this morning?" Myka asks worriedly, seeing the sticky tear tracks on Max's chubby cheeks. She brushes her hand over his silky dark hair, kissing his temple.

"Yeah, I think Aunt Claud and Grandpa Artie are not really cutting it."

"Well, you got him to settle down. How did you manage that?"

Artie sighs and rolls his eyes, while Claudia makes a noise that can only be described as 'gleeful.'

"We scanned for a ping!" Claudia announces.

"It was the lights," Artie counters.

"I'm gonna make him such a cute little hacker," Claudia announces.

Myka shakes her head.

"Speaking of. Claudia, did you dress him this morning?" She asks, surveying his outfit for the day.

"I did," Claudia says proudly. "Isn't it awesome?"

"Sure," Myka plays along, shaking her head and turning Max in her arms so HG can see the full effect of Max's tiny khakis, suspenders, and wing tips. Topped off, of course by a T-shirt with the face of-

"Is that Nikolai?" HG asks, delighted.

"Claudia, where did you get a shirt with Tesla's face on it? Or, maybe the better question is _why_?"

"Why not?!"

"Are there shirts with Charles's face on it?" HG asks.

"Charles? Oh! Boy!HG Wells. Great idea. And oh! You should see his _War of the Worlds_ onesie!"

"Really?" HG grins, meeting Myka's rolling eyes. "I've never heard of that."

Myka blushes and hides her face in Max's neck.

"Claudia, darling, how is our little...project, coming along?"

Myka rolls her eyes, foot pulling over Max's rolling walker and placing him in it.

"I don't even want to know," she says.

"Me either," Artie complains.

"It's not too dangerous, I promise," HG smiles charmingly.

Myka sighs, crouching down to stack blocks on Max's walker tray with him.

"Go on, have fun. I'll be here with Max."

"Oh, can we?" Claudia asks excitedly. "I have it out back in the shed."

"There's a shed?" Artie asks, incredulously.

"No, Grandpa Artie, you don't get to know," Claudia tuts, grabbing HG's wrist and pulling her along.

HG looks back over her shoulder at Myka and Max, grinning fondly. Myka returns the smile and prompts a wave from little Max.

"I'll return her, Myka, I swear," Claudia calls as they run out the back door.

* * *

HG and Claudia come to dinner that night with a few singe marks on their clothes and a couple of light electrical burns on their fingers, but they are grinning from ear to ear. Leena has made lemon chicken and corn-on-the-cob, as well as key lime pie. (Max only gets to enjoy some of the latter, and only when Aunt Myka isn't looking, and only because Claudia thinks Max's "sour lime!" face is hilarious.)

As they are working on dessert, a Farnsworth call from Pete and Steve reveals that the snagging has proven not so simple and they'll have to spend the night in Fargo. This is when Claudia shows Pete Max's "ew, lime!" face and then gets in a lot of trouble with Myka.

"Claudia! All that sugar!"

* * *

"May we stay here tonight?"

Myka looks up, surprised, and HG can't blame her: she surprised herself with that question.

Down the hall, Leena and Claudia are giving Max a bath. There is splashing and squealing, and not just from Max.

"If you want to," Myka says carefully. "But as long as I shower here, I'm fine with another night in the Pete Cave."

Helena chuckles. "Your bed is much more comfortable than that mechanical sofa. Besides, it is very late, and it seems silly to drive all the way over there. Let's stay."

"Are you sure?" Myka asks, setting down the towel she was folding and crossing to where Helena sits poking idly at one of Pete the Ferret's toys. Pete gives it a couple bats with his paw, but he's never been too excited by Helena.

"Positive," Helena smiles for her and circles her wrist, pulling her close between her knees. Her hands settle at Myka's hips and she looks up into that beautiful face. "I am fine, Myka."

"Helena..."

"I'll _be_ fine."

Further discussion is cut off by a knock at the bedroom door. Claudia and Leena are there. Leena is holding a sleepy Max bundled in a Batman towel, hood drooping down into his dark eyes. Claudia is a little soaked, at least from the waist up.

"Max, did you splash Aunt Claudia?" Myka asks, gently reproachful.

Claudia holds up a hand. "I brought it on myself. I can't let the little man go down for it."

Leena rolls her eyes, adjusting the terrycloth Batman cowl so Max can see.

"She did start it. We've come to say goodnight."

"My'es," Max whines, leaning out of Leena's arms.

Myka takes him and kisses his damp hair.

"Alright, buddy. Time for bed, huh? Who is going to do story time? Me or Aunt Leena?"

Max furrows his brow, contemplating, before he jabs a finger into her sternum. Myka laughs.

"Okay, Let's do it."

She looks over her shoulder at Helena, who shoos her on.

"I'll wash up. Take your time."

Max gives her a little wave over his aunt's shoulder, and she returns it with a warm smile. Then he kisses Claudia and Leena and goes willingly to be tucked into bed.

* * *

After her shower, Helena peeks into Max's open nursery door, where Myka rocks Max, dressed in matching long johns with tiny footballs on them. She is reading to him. Max's head lolls back against her shoulder, his hands playing with the watch on her wrist and his mustachioed pacifier firmly in place.

Myka's voice is soft but strong, rising and falling with the rhythm of the story. Hearing Myka Bering read aloud is one of life's singular pleasures, and Helena doesn't feel the slightest bit guilty about eavesdropping for the opportunity. Especially when Myka spots her and gives her an embarrassed grin.

Max only makes it a few more minutes before he is snoring and limp in Myka's arms. She tucks him into his crib, a small stuffed bear tucked in next to him (Winnie the Pooh, she has been told, a piece of literature she missed by a few decades, written for and starring the young son of the author).

Myka creeps out of the nursery.

"Did you enjoy story time?" Myka teases, taking her hand and pulling her towards the bedroom.

"Very much so," Helena grins, kissing her, backing her against the door.

"Goodnight, guys," Claudia eeks as she passes by them, hand thrown up over her eyes.

Myka shakes her head and grins as she reaches behind her for the doorknob:

"Goodnight, Claud!"

tbc


	11. Chapter 11

Title: Delivered

Author: A. Windsor

Fandom: Warehouse 13

Characters: Myka Bering, HG Wells, Pete Lattimer, with supporting roles from everyone else.

Pairings: Myka/HG, Claudia/Leena if you're inclined to see it.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. My two years of law school could allow me to legalese this a little more, but it also tells me it's pretty useless. So please don't sue; it's not mine, I'm just playing!

Summary: "I didn't sign up for the Warehouse to mess with us like this."

Author's Note: Beta'd by cacheese, 'cause roughian's still catching up. I know it's been awhile, but it's extra long to make up for it! Warning for some brief violence.

* * *

Myka can't sleep. Not because she's not exhausted (which she is, physically). Not because there's a puzzle that needs solving (though there always is).

No, Myka can't sleep because she is happy. She is deliriously happy, and that means she is terrified it will end any second now. Mixing the delirium and terror with gnawing guilt makes sleep not really an option.

She watches Helena sleep, tucked against her side, all pale skin and freckles in the moonlight. Helena has slept soundly, both tonight and the one before, and Myka knows why that is:

Helena is also exhausted, but mentally and emotionally as well as physically. Myka sees the toll that the effort of being here takes on Helena, and that's what sets the guilt blazing in Myka's gut.

She should run away with her, put her before all else, just _go_, somewhere that Helena can be carefree and relaxed, or at least as much as the woman that is HG Wells can be.

But she can't run away (even if Helena would let her). Maybe 11 months ago, maybe then she should have walked away, or distanced herself, or anything. Maybe then she could have.

Now, though, she couldn't. Wouldn't. Max needs her. Not as much as his father, but it takes a village, and Myka knows she is pretty much at the top of that village hierarchy. Max has already been abandoned enough.

She needs Max.

But she also needs Helena.

Maybe she chose Pete, eleven months ago. Put her commitment to Pete over her commitment to Helena. Choosing her best friend over the whirlwind of confusing, overwhelming emotions that was her relationship with Helena had seemed... safer.

Helena has never faulted her for that, and Myka thinks that is more than she deserves. _Helena_ is more than she deserves.

Her skin is warm, pressed against her, and the comfortable, wonderful feeling does start to lull Myka towards sleepiness, soothing the ball of guilt in her gut, at least for now. Myka cranes down to kiss her temple, stroking her silky dark hair.

Perhaps Myka did not walk away because she has always believed, even subconsciously, that she could have a future that included both Max and Helena, full time. Against all odds, all life experience to the contrary, some traitorous part of her foolishly, selfishly, believed she could have it all, _this time._

She's closer, now, to a Max-and-HG future than she ever has been before, so maybe that foolish, selfish, traitorous little part is right.

She just has to hope it's not too much, too fast.

* * *

Steve and Pete are stuck in Nebraska for at least another day, and Pete is obviously starting to get frustrated by it in his Farnsworth calls. Max is crankier, too, as he always is when he goes too long without his daddy. He doesn't turn into a terror (that's usually only the odd four to five day mission) but he's less smiley and more easily pouty, clearly feeling the absence of his father.

* * *

Leena keeps Max at home in the morning while the others go to the Warehouse to, of course, do inventory.

"A match made in heaven," Claudia teases at HG's enthusiasm to join Myka in inventorying the "coats and cloaks" aisles.

"Perhaps it will be less exciting when it is a more common chore," HG counters as Myka gets their assignment from Artie.

"So, what's Myka's excuse?" Claudia asks, pouting when Artie hands her the inventory list from the cutlery section. "Spoons? Not even knives? I hate magical spoons. Especially ladles."

Myka and HG shudder sympathetically.

"The Ladle is in cooking ware, not cutlery, so go on."

"I need a buddy."

"Take Trailer."

"Fine. C'mon, Tray."

Claudia and Trailer disappear toward their aisle, and Artie grumbles his way back up to the office. HG gives Myka a warm smile and gestures in the direction of their assignment:

"Shall we, my love?"

Myka shakes her head. "Only if you promise to actually _do_ the inventory."

"I have no idea what you are insinuating."

* * *

Helena knows how important Myka's work is to her, so save for a few stolen kisses and double entendre, they actually_ do_ the inventory. And it is delightful. Myka is absolutely adorable when she is concentrating, and Helena misses the day-to-day of the Warehouse.

"How are you doing?" Myka finally blurts.

"Myka, I'm fine."

It's not a lie. She can feel her control starting to slip some, but she knew that would come. She can push on. She wants to push on.

"Better than fine, actually. I'm happy."

"Are you sure?"

"Do I not seem happy?"

Myka's brow wrinkles.

"I just feel like-I'm asking too much."

Helena gives her a soft grin. "You're asking nothing I would not freely give."

"Now, maybe, but didn't I force you into this?"

"Myka-"

She's cut off by the jarring ringing of the Farnsworth, and Myka reluctantly fishes it out of her pocket.

"Hey."

"Look who brought us lunch!" Claudia's excited voice rings out as Max's chubby hands reach out towards his Aunt Claud's Farnsworth.

* * *

"Hello, Macsen." HG says, pausing at the top of the stairs to study the utterly confounding baby gate that blocks her progress.

"Hi-hi!" Max answers.

HG just gives up and steps over the damned gate. Max quirks his head at her and then extends his arms for her to lift him up.

"What are you doing wandering about anyway?" HG asks of the pajama'd boy as she lifts him up.

"I can see him from here," Myka calls from her open door. HG carries Max into the room and finds Myka in the armchair with a clear view of the hallway. "Sometimes when he's grumpy he needs some time to wander."

"He doesn't look so 'grumpy' to me," HG remarks, and Max gives her a winning smile.

"Should've seen him five minutes ago," Myka grins. "How's your project with Claud coming?"

"I'm not at liberty to say," HG teases.

With a few points and babbles, Max seems to communicate to his aunt what he wants. Myka steals him from HG's arms (after stealing a kiss for herself) and rolls him onto her neatly made bed. Max giggles and rights himself, crawling for his Pooh bear.

"You really can't tell me what you are working on?" Myka asks, sitting down on the bed so she can make sure Max doesn't roll off. She pats the spot beside her, gesturing for HG to join her.

"I cannot," HG says regretfully, sitting down. "But I can promise that the chance of explosion is very low."

"The chance of explosion is _never_ low with you two."

HG grins widely.

"Hey, Max." The boy turns his attention to his aunt, Pooh successfully captured under one arm. "Should we read some Peter Rabbit with HG?"

Max nods and says: "My'es."

"The children's version, not the creepy original," Myka assures HG.

"Ah, I'd heard Bea went on to write children's literature."

"Bea? Did you - Did you know Beatrix Potter?"

Helena suddenly looks very nervous, and Myka gapes, covering Max's ears and whispering:

"Did you_ sleep_ with Beatrix Potter?" she asks, scandalized.

"Just a few times, darling," HG defends. "We were very young. The only girls at a few scientific lectures..."

Myka shakes her head and drops the book onto the nightstand. Max squawks an objection.

"I don't want to deprive the boy-"

"No Peter Rabbit," Myka says firmly, rustling up another book, well-worn. "How about some Pooh, Max? He always loves some Pooh."

Myka hands the book to Max, who grins at the illustrations as she whispers:

"Is there anyone in London you _didn't_ sleep with?"

Helena knows better than to answer that question, and she is relieved when Myka gently takes the book from Max and settles back against the headboard, bringing HG with her. Max takes that as his cue to throw himself between them, snuggling up.

They take turns reading A.A. Milne to him, and when HG is reading, Max leans up and plucks his pacifier from the front pocket of Myka's button up.

"How did you know that was there?" HG pauses to ask the baby.

"He _always_ knows where that is," Myka laughs.

Now happily pacifiered, Max taps impatiently at the book page for her to continue.

* * *

Myka wakes to the sound of Max screaming, muffled through the door and loud-and-clear on the baby monitor. She quickly turns it off so it doesn't wake Helena. It wasn't even supposed to be on, since Leena was on night duty, but it was force of habit to switch it on when she goes to sleep.

She's up already, so she sneaks out of bed and goes to soothe the wailing boy. She runs into Leena in Max's doorway; Leena already has Max in her arms, and he's quieting down, cheek resting against Leena's breast.

"Is he doing okay?" Myka whispers, brushing a hand across Max's back.

"He's not warm. Just a bad dream, maybe?" Leena whispers back.

Myka nods.

"Go back to bed," Leena shoos. "We'll be fine."

"Okay. Thanks."

Myka smothers a yawn and heads back to Helena, warm and waiting in her bed.

* * *

Christina is crying: she is fussy and stubborn sometimes, the little thing, and the middle of the night is the one time Helena has no help with her.

She tells her eyes to open, her body to rise.

Often if she brings her baby girl into bed with her, soft and snuggled close, she calms down enough to sleep for another hour or two. Helena could use it. She was up late scribbling in her notebooks.

The late night is why her eyes don't open immediately, she tells herself, willing her muscles to just _move_. But she can't.

Christina's wails grow louder, and she fights, harder, to _wake up_.

Suddenly, they aren't wails: they are screams, stronger, older, terror-filled.

Helena's eyes snap open.

When they do, she's not in her own body, but she knows exactly whose she is in.

Sophie.

She fights against the blows being rained upon her, but Sophie's body does not have the muscle-memory for ken-po. It is sluggish and awkward in the movements. And the fear... the fear is lethal.

But not for her.

Helena's eyes lock on Christina, kicking and hitting until the end, and Helena surges out of the grip of her attackers. She falls short, though, foot caught in one bleeding assailant's grasp, and she looks up from the floor just in time to see the one, the calmest, the strongest, pull out his pistol, as if bored.

"We have no time for this," he says, and just like that, he puts a bullet in her screaming daughter's chest.

He turns the gun on Sophie-Helena and -

"Helena! Helena, please, wake up," Myka voice beds, desperate.

This time, Helena's eyes fly open with little delay, fleeing from the dream/memory. They take a moment to focus, but when they do, she sees Myka's face, Myka's teary eyes hovering above her. She registers the firm grip on her shoulder and mentally grabs onto it to finish pulling herself from the dream's hold on her.

She sits up, and Myka lets out half a breath. It is only when Myka's hands brush tenderly at her cheeks that Helena realizes she was crying as she dreamed. She calls it a dream, not a nightmare, because reliving that day is certainly not the worst her subconscious has done to her.

"Is she okay?"

Helena looks up and finds Leena in the door, Max on her shoulder. She realizes what set her off. Christina's screams come back to her. Her stomach turns, but she forces it back down.

"Just a bad dream, I'm afraid," Helena manages hoarsely.

"You and Max both," Myka smiles weakly. She waves off a worriedly frowning Leena.

Leena closes the door behind her, but they can still hear her softly reassuring Max as she walks him across the hall.

"I'm sorry," Myka chokes, hands still firmly on Helena's shoulder and cheek. "It was too much, too soon, wasn't it?"

"Myka," Helena starts.

"You were calling for her. You were calling for Christina."

Helena closes her eyes, forces herself to bring up better memories: Christina's first steps, tripping over her infant gown, Charles laughing with joy. Taking Christina to the zoological gardens, her little hand firmly in hers, her eyes wide with wonder at the massive elephants and roaring lions as Helena whispers promises to take her to see them in the wild one day.

The first time Myka kisses her, warm and soft, a thank you for saving her life in Hong Kong and a promise of a future so deliciously close.

She lets out a slow breath and opens her eyes again.

"I'll be alright," she says shakily.

"I forced this on you," Myka says, anguished. "This is my fault."

"Any fault lies at the feet of men long dead," Helena counters. "Myka, I _want_ to be here. With you. With all of you. I-"

Max begins to cry again across the hall, and Helena flinches and shudders unconsciously. She forces her eyes open and locks them on Myka.

"But perhaps I should go for a time."

Myka's face falls briefly, and Helena grabs her cheek.

"Just for a time. I'll be back for his birthday, at the latest. I just need some time."

"Time," Myka laughs morosely. "It's always about that with us."

"But now we have plenty of it, yes?"

Myka nods and kisses her. The kiss is salty from the tears shed tonight.

"I love you," Myka promises against her lips.

Helena presses a kiss to her forehead.

"I love you, too."

Neither sleeps much for the rest of the night, simply holding each other as the dawn creeps closer.

Helena is gone before breakfast.

Unbeknownst to Myka, Helena steals into Max's room on her way out. She makes sure Pooh is tucked firmly in place and his pacifier is secure between his lips. With a kiss to the top of his soft baby locks, she leaves the B&B.

* * *

tbc


	12. Chapter 12

Title: Delivered

Author: A. Windsor

Fandom: Warehouse 13

Characters: Myka Bering, HG Wells, Pete Lattimer, with supporting roles from everyone else.

Pairings: Myka/HG, Claudia/Leena if you're inclined to see it.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. My two years of law school could allow me to legalese this a little more, but it also tells me it's pretty useless. So please don't sue; it's not mine, I'm just playing!

Summary: "I didn't sign up for the Warehouse to mess with us like this."

Author's Note: Beta'd by cacheese, 'cause roughian's still catching up. I think we're coming towards the end (of this particular fic). There should be three or four more chapters, and then the many sequels and one shots this story has already spawned. For those who read my other fic, yes, it's officially a 'verse.

* * *

"How are you holding up?" Pete asks, sitting on the back porch bench beside her and extending a plate of cookies he knows she will decline.

"She was amazing with him," Myka says softly.

"So I hear. Claud says he really took to her, too."

At the mention of his son, Pete looks over his shoulder, through the window to catch a glimpse of Max. Steve has him on the living room floor, bravely playing a game involving multicolored shapes and a hammer.

"Yeah. It was... More than I could have dreamed of. Which is probably why it didn't last."

"Baby steps, Mykes. You've known that for awhile. She'll be back before you know it," Pete soothes, munching on a cookie.

"I feel selfish, though. For even asking. For _demanding_, really."

"HG's just as stubborn as you are I really doubt she would be doing this if she didn't want."

"Mmm," Myka barely cracks a smile.

"You are allowed to be happy, Myka. You're allowed to _ask_ to be happy."

"Thanks, Pete."

"No problem," he kisses her cheek. "But next time? _You're_ going to Nebraska."

* * *

"The dreams will never go away," HG says.

"Maybe not," Dr. Zhang agrees.

"It wasn't even a particularly bad one."

"You relived your daughter's murder, HG. That's not mild."

"I don't need to dream to do that," she counters. "Merely close my eyes."

"So why did you leave?"

"The dreams are unsettling. As is the pain it causes Myka."

"I see."

"She believes it is her fault that I am in this situation. Any slip of my resolve and her guilt..."

"Have you spoken to her about this?"

HG grins wryly, "Talking is not our strongest point."

"I think you speak well. And often," Dr. Zhang teases, before continuing seriously. "Talking is very important in a relationship."

"Yes, well," HG throws Dr. Zhang her flippant, charming smile. "Never really had one of those before."

Dr. Zhang smiles.

"Before the dream, how was your visit? How did you feel about spending time with all of them? With Max?"

"Wonderful," Helena admits easily. "He reminds me of Christina in the best way. I felt closer to her than I have in a very long time, and to _her, _the memories of her life. But with those memories, the rest of the past is closer as well. It was tiring, keeping them at bay. Until I couldn't any longer."

Dr. Zhang nods. "And why keep them at bay? Why not let them come as they may? Step through them. And share them."

"With whom?"

"Whomever. But I meant particularly Myka. How much have you told her about Christina?"

"Bit and pieces."

"Good or bad?"

"Mostly good, beyond the basics."

"Hmm. She needs to see all of you. The darkest part, too."

"She's seen that. She was at the barrel of my gun in Yellowstone."

"But does she know how you got there?"

* * *

"How is Max today?" Helena asks over their first normal daily phone call/Skype call since she left the inn. She called to report her safe arrival the morning she left, but the next day, Myka had been pulled away on a particularly messy artifact retrieval with Claudia for two days, unable to talk for more than a few minutes at a time.

"He's good. He's here, investigating my room while Pete takes a shower power hour," Myka rolls her eyes, then says more seriously: "We miss you."

"And I miss you. Both of you. May I see him?"

"Oh!" Myka grins. "Sure. Max, c'mere, buddy." She turns the computer so that the camera faces the boy as he toddles over to her. "Say hi to HG."

"He is wearing a bowtie," Helena laughs. "Did Claudia dress him today?"

"Pete," Myka shakes her head. "Claudia downloaded all of _Dr. Who_ for him. So Max has been wearing a bowtie over his onesie all day. I objected. I was overruled."

"Our poor Max," Helena says. "You look dashing, love."

"Say thanks, Max."

He waves instead, then wanders off. Myka turns the computer back face her, watching Max from the corner of her eye.

"I think I shall return tomorrow evening, if that's alright."

"Really?" Myka asks, heart jumping.

"Yes. And I though this time I would perhaps bring a few of my very few things and leave them in your room, if you are amenable."

"_Our_ room," Myka corrects forcefully and beams.

"I'd like that. Not sure how long I can stay, as I have been given a Regents assignment that must be handled by the end of the week. Perhaps I'll bring Claudia."

"She'd _love_ that," Myka promises.

"Excellent. I'll let you know once the arrangements are made."

"Great. Oh, hold on a sec."

Myka puts down the computer and pulls Max onto the bed from where he stands whining at the end of the bed. She settles him into her lap, and he focuses instantly on the computer screen this time.

"Hello again, Max. Tell me: what would you like for your birthday?"

* * *

"Hey, what's that?" Pete asks as he notices Claudia whip out her phone at the breakfast table and just as quickly hide it away. Myka and HG's laughter is still echoing from behind them as they head to the kitchen.

"Nothing."

"Nope. I've got Dad-eyes now," Pete counters, ducking as Max decides today's fun game is to attempt to climb up his daddy's side. "Careful, little dude."

"Da-da," Max giggles as Pete guides him on the course.

"Fine," Claudia capitulates easily. "I've been keeping a tally."

"Of what?"

"How many days of the last fifteen HG has woken up here."

"Are you counting your completely awesome, completely unfair trip to Rio?"

"Yes," Claudia gloats.

"So how many? And why?"

"Nine. And trying to figure out what percentage counts as actually living here."

Pete chuckles.

"What? I just want the whole family together again, okay?"

"You and everyone else, Claud. Nine seems like a good percentage. Plus, everyone will be here tomorrow. It's the party!"

"True, true," Claudia grins, grabbing Max from Pete's shoulder. "How's it feel to be almost one, Max?"

* * *

"I want to take you somewhere."

"In Univille?"

"In the Warehouse," HG smiles, threading her fingers through Myka's and leading her out of the office. "Mostly."

* * *

Her fingers fly nimbly over the console, and with a clanking thud, an old, solid door is thrown into place.

"Warehouse 12 had a Leena's, too, you know. A boarding house actually, rather than an inn." Helena's hand pauses on the door knob. "I, of course, had my home, with Charles and Christina, so I didn't live there until... Well, until the end. As the madness consumed me, I spent more and more time locked away in there."

"Helena," Myka has already caught on, hand closing warmly on her upper arm, pressing in tight against her. "We don't have to do this."

"We do, darling. And I need you to not be afraid to go there with me."

"Okay," Myka acquiesces, squeezing her arm. "Okay. Whatever you need."

"You saw the climax, out in Yellowstone, but I need you to see how I got there. So that you what I left behind. What festered in me for a century. Before you absolved me of it."

"You absolved yourself," Myka argues. "_You_ stopped that day."

"Because you stopped me."

"Because I knew you wanted me to," Myka ripostes, earning a soft smile.

"Yes, well, no one knows me better." Helena takes a deep breath and opens the door. "That is why I need you to know this version as well. "

At first glance, the small room does not look much different from Helena's other workspaces: schematics are strewn about and hanging from every surface rather haphazardly. But Helena is usually the epitome of ordered chaos, with strong patterns emerging easily to the genius (or the one who knows her best).

There is no order here.

Helena's usually deliberate penmanship, even in haste, is here barely legible scrawl, random words underlined, emphasized to the point of tearing the paper with the pen.

The schematics themselves are also different, Myka notes as she wanders about to take a closer look. While Helena's inventions are always fantastical, she usually ties them into reality. These were machines, many _weapons_, that simply could not function (and to say that about the fruits of HG Wells's mind, she who rewrote the laws of physics on a regular basis, bears special weight).

On the nightstand of the hastily made bed is a framed picture of Christina, at a younger age than the one in the locket. Myka picks it up tenderly, and the motion disturbs a sheet of paper, which flutters to the floor. Myka picks it up and reads aloud:

"E.M.? W.W.?"

Helena smiles tightly and slips the paper from her fingers.

"The agents who paid from my sins."

"How?"

"Edward, Ned, McShane. He was a brave agent, if a bit dour. He lost his life when I tried to incorporate an artifact into one of my more dangerous designs." Helena takes a deep breath, letting her thumb brush tenderly over the second set of initials. "William Wolcott. A dear, sweet man. Devoted agent and friend."

"The one who worked on Joshua's Trumpet with you," Myka says knowingly.

"Yes. I was - reckless, toward the end especially. I had nothing to live for. I was barely sleeping, barely eating. When I wasn't hunting artifacts, I was searching for _any_ way to bend time. Caturanga somehow convinced the Regents that I could still handle the field, but after... "

"What happened?" Myka presses.

"We were tracking the arrow that slew Moctezuma. It was said to have imbued in it all of the rage and pain of the defeated Aztecs. One touch could incapacitate. To be stabbed with it was..."

"Fatal," Myka provides.

"Yes. I was supposed to be Wolcott's partner, to watch out for him. But of course I charged in blindly and he followed after and... He died the deaths of the entire Aztec Empire."

Helena closes her eyes, and they're glassy when she reopens them.

"Shortly thereafter, I chose the Bronzer as the... best of my options. The Regents were more than happy to oblige. I'd always been a thorn in their side."

"Your time machine," Myka says knowingly.

"I was blinded by my quest for a greater future. Even before Christina's death, perhaps. My ambition for knowledge and adventure kept me from her side, and then later, it also cost McShane and Wolcott their lives. I thought that if I could wake up in the future, the wonder would be enough to get rid of the hunger. And the centuries in Bronze would serve as the penance for my failings. I could be reborn in the future and live in a better world. And forget. "

"But you didn't forget."

"No. Instead, I lived Christina's death over and over, and my anger only grew. I was endlessly reminded of the injustices of my time. I ruminated on my failed attempts to manipulate time to my advantage. The hope of a new world was my only sliver of light in that infinite darkness, but when I awoke..."

"The world wasn't new."

"No. It appeared to have gotten worse."

Myka looks around. The signs of madness are everywhere, and this was before Helena spent over a hundred years with only her thoughts for company. She thinks back to Helena's eyes that day in Yellowstone. It wasn't rage. It wasn't hate. It was _pain_. HG Wells had always been striving to improve the world. To end the world's pain and give the world the new start she had dreamed of for a century in bronze.

"So you wanted to put the world out of its misery."

"Yes," Helena admits freely, then continues more sheepishly: "It made sense at the time."

Myka picks up Christina's picture again.

"We've never talked about Yellowstone before," she says softly.

"Yes, well, my previous apocalyptic tendencies are an uncomfortable subject. We also do not talk about my body count. The men who murdered Christina. MacPherson. Thought I still have very little guilt over those. Those boys in Egypt, over whom I have boundless remorse. Very nearly Pete."

"But you said you want me to know that version of you."

Helena steps in closer to Myka, one hand brushing delicately over her shoulder, the other resting lightly on the wrist of the hand that holds Christina's portrait. Myka shivers.

"_You_ are my new start, Myka. The one I always dreamed of. You and this family. But I have learned, painfully, that you cannot erase the past. And so to have our now, you have to learn my then. We have to live with my then."

Myka turns, slowly, and pulls Helena into her embrace.

"If you do not want to, I understand -" Helena starts.

"Tell me everything," Myka demands, holding on tight. "I want to know all of it."

* * *

tbc


	13. Chapter 13

Title: Delivered

Author: A. Windsor

Fandom: Warehouse 13

Characters: Myka Bering, HG Wells, Pete Lattimer, with supporting roles from everyone else.

Pairings: Myka/HG, Claudia/Leena if you're inclined to see it.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. My two years of law school could allow me to legalese this a little more, but it also tells me it's pretty useless. So please don't sue; it's not mine, I'm just playing!

Summary: "I didn't sign up for the Warehouse to mess with us like this."

Author's Note: Thanks for sticking with this story! I'm so glad people are still enjoying it. Here's a super long chapter to make up for my absence.

* * *

"Where's Aunt Mykes? Would that make you feel better, Mr. Crankypants?" Pete asks his grumpy son.

Max just scowls at his dad and throws the (very hard) plastic toy in his hand at him. It glances off Pete's ear.

"Hey, ow! No. No throwing. Time out for you."

Pete picks Max up and carries him to the stairs, sitting him down on the bottom step.

"Now stay here for two minutes and then we're going to talk about this."

"Don't you think he's a little young to understand Time Out?" Leena asks, amused when Pete steps down the hall a little.

Max is currently fascinated by the spindles of the handrail, not ruminating on his crimes, proving Leena's point.

"Probably," Pete nods, rubbing his ear. "But it's good practice. And sometimes Daddy needs a time out, too."

"I can take him for a bit if you - "

"Nah, I've got 'im," Pete cuts her off as he swoops over to haul Max off the step. "Nuh huh, don't eat the dust bunnies."

"Pete! There are no dust bunnies in this house!" Leena objects.

"You did _not_ just insult her housekeeping," Claudia interjects, coming down the stairs.

"No!" Pete cries. "No, it was a joke, sheesh."

"Good, because the last time you did that, she went on strike for a week. And it was scary. We cannot survive without Leena."

"I was not on strike," Leena objects. "I had a mission with Mrs. Frederic."

"A conveniently timed mission," Claudia says doubtfully, heading for the kitchen. "I almost starved!"

"You could cook for yourself, you know," Leena points out, following after her. "Or at least order in."

"It's not the same," Claudia calls dramatically. "You've spoiled me."

Leena's retort is inaudible as they disappear into the kitchen.

"Our house is full of bickering women, Max," Pete sighs to the baby in his arms.

"Objection," Steve says, hurrying down the stairs.

"Bickering women and Uncle Steve," Pete clarifies as Steve ruffles Max's hair. Max squawks an objection.

"Thank you. Hey, I'm off to meditate, little man. Wanna come?"

Max twists away and grunts.

"I'll take that as a no."

"Yeah, sorry, his grumpy pants are on today."

"Well, why don't you change them?" Steve asks as he heads back towards the garden.

"Not like that!" Pete complains. "I'm a good dad. I check these things."

Once Steve is out of sight, Pete pulls the back of Max's diaper to double check.

"Oof, c'mon, dude! I just changed you! That's disgusting. Kinda impressive, but..."

* * *

"Hey, sorry we're late," Myka apologizes as she and HG slip into their seats at the dinner table.

"Don't worry; you haven't missed much," Claudia says wryly. "Max is grumpy. Pete is grumpy."

"Hey!"

"Leena's dinner is fantastic, but she's annoyed with me because I'm lazy," Claudia continues, earning a glare. "And Artie and Steve almost came to blows in the Great Bean Debate of 2013. Pinto, lima, who can choose? And that's what you missed on _Glee_!"

She gets blank looks all around the table.

"Steve, you're a terrible gay," Claudia complains, then sighs. "My wit is lost on all of you."

"When do you have time for television?" Artie asks. He's giving Max a run in the grump department tonight.

Claudia sticks her tongue out at him.

"Do cheer up, Max. It's your birthday tomorrow," HG directs to the almost one-year-old.

He ignores her, intent on the tiny pieces of chicken on his high chair tray.

"Well, what were you two up to all day?" Claudia asks of the couple innocently.

"I don't want to know!" Artie immediately objects. "I am changing the subject. And you will all like my new subject, because I am the boss and I'm giving you all tomorrow off for Max's birthday."

"Artie, you are a dirty old man," Claudia teases.

"New subject! Piano concertos. Go."

"Whaaat?" Pete asks, and their favorite nightly past time of teasing Artie about how old he is gets into full swing.

Having successfully avoided any awkward conversation, and helped themselves to dinner, Myka squeezes HG's hand under the table, giving her a small smile, easily returned. Then they dig into dinner. After a long, exhausting day in Helena's old room, they need it.

* * *

"Thank you, gentlemen," Jane Lattimer addresses her bodyguards as she closes the limo door. "Don't forget to come in for cake."

"Yes, ma'am," they chorus, and she even sees one crack a smile.

She's met at the front door by a pair of equally serious, well-dressed men, so Irene is already here. The guards let her in without any fuss, and the party is in full swing, which allows her a few moments to survey the scene without being noticed.

Jeannie has beat her here, and she signs animatedly with her brother by a spread of snacks. She has Pete in loud, boisterous stitches, in that way siblings always can. Jane's grandson, though, is not with them, so she keeps scanning the crowd.

In another clump of guests is young Claudia, who, along with Agent Jinks - Steve-, appears to be doing her best to provoke a laugh from the ever-serious Irene Frederic. Or at least she is until Leena grabs her by the sleeve and shoos her into the kitchen. Still no Max.

Ah. There he is. Perched happily on Myka Bering's hip, while she talks with Artie and Vanessa. And stands oh-so-close to HG Wells.

Jane had liked Myka from the moment she met her. If you'd told her then that two years later Myka would be looking _very_ comfortable holding Jane's infant grandson, Jane would have been overjoyed. She thought Pete needed someone like Myka: tough, no nonsense, _smart_. And it had been obvious to her that they cared for each other, deeply; she just seemed to have read that affection wrong.

At least on Myka's end.

Because while Jane had been daydreaming about what a good daughter-in-law her son's partner would make, Myka had already started her dance with the ever-dangerous HG Wells.

Irene is now Wells's biggest supporter, constantly fighting for _more_ trust, more responsibility for the slowly reinstated agent. Jane will admit, even after knowing the events with Walter Sykes, both versions, to still being on the fence.

And right now, HG Wells is tickling Jane's grandson. She is also the first to spot her.

"Ah, Macsen," Wells says, resting a hand on Myka's shoulder. "It appears as if your grandmother has arrived."

Jane's children hear the announcement and rush over to hug her. When the chaos clears, Wells is standing there with Max, who looks quite content to be in her arms.

"There's the one I'm actually here to see," Jane announces, tossing a teasing look at her children, who react appropriately.

"Not cool, Mom," Pete objects as Jane takes her grandson from HG.

"No one warned you?" Jane asks wryly. "We only have children so that we can have grandchildren. Once we get them, you're old news."

As if to prove her point, she immediately returns her attention to Max.

"Hello there. Do you know how happy Grandma is to see you? I missed you!"

Max giggles and ducks his head into her shoulder.

Jane sighs happily and kisses his head.

"Happy Birthday, Max."

* * *

"Okay, okay! This one's from me and HG," Claudia announces, as if that weren't obvious from the fact it is an object so large that both she and HG are carrying it between them. There is also a grease-stained work blanket draped over it, another big clue.

"Should I be scared?" Pete asks.

"No!" Claudia dismisses as Myka says: "Yes."

"Take a look," Claudia grins, pulling the blanket back with a flourish. "Voila!"

"Um. What is it?"

"It's a totally awesome diaper genie. Same concept as a regular one, except we built it so that it actually takes the diapers and converts them into energy, which then powers itself and also, y'know, anything else you plug into it. It was my idea, but it wouldn't have come together without HG. Well, it would've, but it probably wouldn't be safe for Max's room."

"Wait, so, turbo diaper genie is the Top Secret Shed project?"

"The Top Secret Shed has many projects," Claudia intones seriously, while HG grins fondly at her. "You can know of none of them. Except this one. Which is a present."

"Are you okay with this Top Secret Shed business?" Artie asks Mrs. Frederic, looking for support.

"What Agents Wells and Donovan do in their down time is their own business," Mrs. Frederic announces.

"Well, _that_ is a terrifying statement," Artie grumbles, which provokes an amused snort from Myka and a reassuring rub of his shoulder from Vanessa.

"I love it, guys, thanks," Pete declares, giving each of them a one-armed hug, Max in the other arm. Claudia returns the hug warmly, HG just a bit awkwardly.

"Can we have cake now?" Steve asks, a sentiment quickly echoed by Claudia and Pete.

"Everyone around the table," Leena orders, taking over. "Pete, put Max in his high chair."

"I'll help you with the cake," Myka offers, following Leena toward the kitchen. "Oh, and Pete, take off his shirt. It's nice, and he'll ruin it."

"Max, I think Aunt Mykes is saying you're messy," Pete objects.

"Like father, like son," Steve notes.

"She'd likely ask you to do the same, but none of us wants to see that," HG adds.

That gets the whole room chuckling.

From his spot buckling Max into his high chair, Pete clutches his chest. "I'm hurt."

At Jeannie's request, Jane translates the joke for her daughter, who then grins widely and signs to Pete:

_"Please, Pete. Spare us all._"

"Max, you don't know this yet, because we're still working on your signing, but your Aunt Jeannie is just as mean to me as all of your other aunts," Pete says and signs.

The lights dim then, signaling the arrival of the cake, bringing with it off-key singing of various levels of enthusiasm and lots of shouting encouragement for Max to destroy his very first chocolate cake.

Max looks skeptical, even with his daddy behind him and his aunts Leena and Myka encouraging him from either side. Claudia quickly snaps as many pictures as possible, all the while saying:

"C'mon, Maxy! You're gonna love it, and Aunt Mykes is almost never going to let you have it. Enjoy it while you can."

Max continues to stare at it warily, until Pete leans in lower to whisper in his ear.

"It's okay, Maximus. Lemme help you out."

Pete takes a chunk of the cake between two fingers and holds it up to Max's mouth. Max takes a tentative bite. His eyes light up. He flings a hand forward and grabs at the cake, shoveling it into his mouth.

"That's my boy," Pete grins. "That's my boy."

* * *

"I have another small present," HG says, once she gets a moment alone with Pete. His sister has Max now, and Myka and Jane are beside her, talking comfortably.

"HG, you already got Max like three different toys. Plus the Turbo Genie."

"Yes, but this is for you."

"For _me_?" Pete asks, incredulous.

"The first birthday is a greater accomplishment for the parent than the child," HG says, handing over a small package.

"It does feel like a miracle to have made it this far," Pete grins. "But you didn't have to get me anything."

HG shrugs, obviously embarrassed by all this sentiment.

"You know, you don't have to suck up to me," Pete adds. "You have my blessing to court Myka, or whatever."

"And now I can rest easily at night," HG rolls her eyes. "Open your gift, Peter, before I decide to take it back."

"Alright, alright," Pete grumbles, tearing at the wrapping.

"I don't need your blessing, you know," HG notes. "But I do appreciate the thought behind it. Especially given the grief I have caused you."

Pete flinches a little, fingers freezing before he opens the lid on the box.

"We all have our demons. Keep making Myka, and Max, and Claud, smile like you do, and I think we'll be okay."

HG nods, then gestures to the gift.

"Open it, then."

Pete does as he's told, grinning widely when the present is revealed.

"You carry _so many_ things on your keys, I thought perhaps you may like this."

"I love it," Pete promises, holding the keychain up, a small pewter frame with a close up of Max's smiling face inside. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Congratulations."

* * *

After cake and mingling, Max crashes from his sugar high, and Myka volunteers to put him down for a nap, HG offering to join her.

In the absence of their guest of honor, Jane takes the discussion towards more serious topics.

"The occasion of his birthday does force me to ask: where are we in the search for his mother?"

Claudia, who was lazily draped over the laps of both Jinks and Leena nursing a cake-coma, sits bolt upright. Pete's smile fades to a thin line. Artie looks extra dour.

"We're nowhere," Claudia announces. "She doesn't exist."

"Well, we know that isn't true," Jane retorts.

"But it kinda is," Claudia counters. "I've spent the last eleven months going over every single shred of evidence we've got, scouring every resource we have, legally and illegally, and I have _nothing_."

"I've gotten her access to every medical database in the country, and several more around the world," Vanessa adds.

Mrs. Frederic and Artie, who have heard this report every few weeks, are unsurprised. Likewise, Pete, Steve, and Leena, who knew the gist of it, do little more than frown thoughtfully.

"Nothing? So what do we do now? Give up?"

"I'm not giving up," Claudia says emphatically. "There's just not much more I can do besides keep my search programs running for now. You'll know when I know. Whoever she is, someone doesn't want her found. Maybe even she doesn't."

"That is more than a little unsettling," Jane admits.

"Tell me about it," Pete seconds, and Jane squeezes his shoulder.

"Max is one hundred percent healthy and one hundred and ten percent loved," Vanessa notes. "Perhaps we should focus on that."

"You're right," Jane sighs. "I just - wish we knew more."

"Welcome to the club," Pete says with a shrug. "But Dr. Vanessa is right. He's ours, and that's the most important thing."

* * *

tbc


	14. Chapter 14

Title: Delivered

Author: A. Windsor

Fandom: Warehouse 13

Characters: Myka Bering, HG Wells, Pete Lattimer, with supporting roles from everyone else.

Pairings: Myka/HG, Claudia/Leena if you're inclined to see it.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. My two years of law school could allow me to legalese this a little more, but it also tells me it's pretty useless. So please don't sue; it's not mine, I'm just playing!

Summary: "I didn't sign up for the Warehouse to mess with us like this."

Author's Note: Happy Thanksgiving! (Even if you don't celebrate it! :P)

* * *

"Claudia, be _careful_ with him," Leena admonishes as Claudia races Max's stroller ahead of her down the sidewalk.

She's like a big puppy with him: she loves him more than anything, but sometimes she's just a little too _exuberant _and it makes Leena worry.

In response to her admonishment, Claudia zooms Max around in a tight circle to face her, and Leena tries hard not to yell, even as the panic grips her chest. Max just giggles and claps his hands at the movement.

"He's _fine. _Perfectly safe. Hurry up! We don't want all the good baby swings to be taken."

The thirteen-month-old has a hooded sweatshirt on to fight against the very slight late September chill, but Claudia seems perfectly content in her long-sleeved shirt.

"Just not so fast."

"_Leena_. I won't let anything happen to him. But he likes it. Right, Max?"

"Yeah," Max uses one of his newer words.

"Can you say: 'go fast, Aunt Claud!'?"

"Go, 'Aud!" he declares.

"Whoa." Claudia freezes, then clutches at her chest. Leena grins at her. "Did he just-?"

"Go, 'Aud, go!" Max demands again.

"Way to go, Max!" Claudia grins, offering her hand for a sloppy high five. "Now say: 'C'mon, Aunt Leena!'."

"Leena!" Max cries.

"Close enough," Claudia beams. Leena has caught up with them now, and Claudia bumps her hip. "He said my name."

"I heard," Leena says as they start walking towards the park again. "Mostly."

"He said my name, and he said it before Steve's," Claudia continues to gloat.

"I don't know... He was getting kinda close to Steve's last night."

"No! Nope. I am still recovering from him saying HG before Claudia. She's only been living here a month."

"Oh, but that was cute," Leena counters, the park now in sight.

"Yeah," Claudia relents. "It was adorable. But I'm still bitter."

"I bet swings will make you feel better."

"Yeah."

"Ready for the swings, Max?" Leena asks.

"Go, 'Aud, go!"

* * *

They barely make it back to the room.

They have a successful artifact retrieval and a wondrously quiet dinner. No one talks over them, or cries, or throws food. (The last person to do the latter, surprisingly, was _not_ Max.)

So, they have a lovely meal at a fancy restaurant, with lots of wine, and they barely make it back to the room before they are all over each other. Helena probably wouldn't have objected to a little action in the empty elevator or deserted hallway, but Myka wouldn't hear of it. As soon as they are inside the hotel room, though...

Myka pushes Helena back against the door as it closes behind them. She has one hand in her hair, the other sliding around her hip for a firm grip on her -

Her phone starts blaring _Eye of the Tiger_.

Myka groans.

It's Pete. Which means it could be something really stupid, something _totally_ not worth stopping _this_ for (especially considering how often Max's teething, or Pete and Claudia's bickering, or Leena's war against Trailer's muddy feet, interrupts them at home). Or it could be -

"You should get that," Helena says, stepping around her but keeping a finger linked in a belt loop, pulling her along. "It might be Max."

Myka gets to the phone in time.

"Hello?"

"Please hold for the Emperor Maximus, calling to say goodnight," Pete declares.

Myka rolls her eyes and activates the speakerphone, hearing Pete stage-whisper:

"It's Aunt Myka and HG."

"My'es? Agey?"

"Hello, Max," Helena greets, sitting at the end of the bed, tugging Myka over to stand between her kneees.

"Hey, buddy," Myka smiles. "Are you headed to bed?"

There's a rustle at the other end of the line, and Myka and Helena share a smirk. They know that the fourteen-month-old has lost interest already.

"No, Max, stay here," Pete says. "You have to say goodnight."

"Sleep well, Max," Helena calls.

"Goodnight, Max. We love you."

"Yep, we lost him. But you guys got big smiles, I promise," Pete sighs.

"Good," Myka says. "Kiss him for me. Everything okay there?"

"Yep. The inn is still standing. Even though Max and Tray chased each other around downstairs for a good half hour today."

"Okay, then, Pete, in that case we're gonna go."

"Alright. Goodnight. Enjoy your kid-free sleep."

"Oh, we plan on it. 'Night."

"Goodnight," Helena adds.

Myka hangs up the phone and tosses it onto a nearby chair.

"Now," Helena grins devilishly. "Where were we?"

* * *

Myka groans as the alarm breaks through her delightfully comfortable sleep. Fancy hotel beds are the best, especially with Helena wrapped around her all night. Speaking of...

"Stop watching me sleep," she complains, burying further into the pillow, pulling Helena's arm around her waist.

"I do no such thing," Helena defends. She separates long enough to silence alarm before gathering Myka into her arms again, kissing her below her ear.

"You were. You always do," Myka counters. "What time is our flight?"

"Eleven, I believe."

Myka rolls over to face her and then smothers a yawn.

"We should go get breakfast then."

"I already ordered some from room service."

"You were _so_ watching me sleep."

Helena laughs, but only allows: "I was awake early."

Myka's face automatically shadows with concern.

"Another dream?"

"Mmm."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Perhaps over eggs, yes," Helena smiles softly as there's a knock at the door. She kisses Myka and then heads to answer it.

"Put a shirt on first, please. You scarred that poor boy in Charleston."

* * *

"Are you still keeping count?"

Claudia jumps and then flushes at getting caught staring at Myka, HG, and Max through the window.

"No," she retorts to Pete's teasing. "She's only ever gone for missions these days."

"It's nice to have her back."

"Yeah. Both of them."

Pete smiles fondly and joins her in watching. It's early November. Myka and HG have bundled Max up enough that he closely resembles the Michelin Man, and the fifteen-month-old is running around enjoying the large piles of the season's last leaves. Trailer does his best to herd Max, but the little 'lamb' takes it as an invitation to play and tosses a tiny fistful of leaves at the dog. Myka lifts Max up over her head and (at a glacial pace) "drops" him into the pile, where he kicks delightedly. Then she leans over and grabs a handful of leaves. She trickles a couple on Max's head, and then tosses the rest at HG. When Max follows suit, HG launches a counterattack with mock affront.

"They give me hope," Claudia announces, unprompted. "You know?"

"For what?"

"That maybe there _is _someone out there for all of us. I mean, if they can find each other through all of... everything." At that she waves a hand to demonstrate the enormity of all of the hurdles in their way. "Then the rest of us should be able to, too. Right?"

Pete rests a brotherly hand on Claudia's shoulder.

"Yeah. You're right. So. You gonna come outside with me and teach these losers how playing in the leaves is really done?"

Claudia grins widely.

"Let's do it."

* * *

"No."

"Aw, c'mon, Myka. You like this stuff."

"Pete," Myka sighs, arms crossed over her chest. "I'm not doing your inventory for you. We all have our assignments, and we'll all go do them."

"We're the A Team. We should be in the field instead of Claudia and Steve."

"Stop whining."

"At least trade with me. I hate the crazy British authors section. No offense," he tosses in the direction of the group's third member.

"Barely any taken," HG flips back with the slightest sneer. "I'll switch with you."

"As meta as that is, sure. Whadda ya got?"

"Sport."

"Sweet!"

"Pete, don't touch anything," Myka immediately admonishes. She turns her attention to HG and narrows her eyes. "You, too."

"I wouldn't dream of it, darling," HG objects and kisses her cheek quickly before wandering off towards her assignment. "I've been doing this a good deal longer than either of you, you know."

"And you've always followed the rules," Pete snarks after her.

"No, no. I _change_ the rules," Helena calls back over her shoulder.

Myka smirks and watches her disappear around the corner.

"You two are gross," Pete says with brotherly annoyance as they walk in the opposite direction. Myka punches his shoulder. "What? You're always flirting!"

"We are not."

"You so are," Pete pfts, reaching for an out of place artifact.

"Pete," Myka complains.

"What? I'm just putting it where it belongs," he defends. "Anyway, whatever. It's cute. Usually."

"We're not _cute_,_" _Myka starts, "We're-"

Her vain objection is silenced by the klaxon of the B&B proximity alarm.

It is in all likelihood a very large squirrel, but Pete and Myka have yet to let themselves get lax about the whole thing. They run through the many aisles separating them from the office and sprint up the stairs. Pete immediately calls up the video as Artie emerges from another door. When the feed fills the screen, all three of them freeze, blood running cold.

"Who-"

"Don't really care right now," Pete declares, already grabbing the Tesla rifle and his service weapon. He tosses the same to Myka.

"I don't recognize any markings or - "

"Artie. There are armed commandos invading our home. Where my _son_ is. We can figure out the details later. Car. Now."

* * *

They're already speeding down the road when Myka finally finds a voice for the unsettling feeling that has settled in her gut.

"Where's HG?"

* * *

tbc


	15. Chapter 15

Title: Delivered

Author: A. Windsor

Fandom: Warehouse 13

Characters: Myka Bering, HG Wells, Pete Lattimer, with supporting roles from everyone else.

Pairings: Myka/HG, Claudia/Leena if you're inclined to see it.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. My two years of law school could allow me to legalese this a little more, but it also tells me it's pretty useless. So please don't sue; it's not mine, I'm just playing!

Summary: "I didn't sign up for the Warehouse to mess with us like this."

Author's Note: Didn't mean to make you sweat out the cliffhanger! Life is just a little crazy right now. :) Thanks for sticking with it.

* * *

The bed and breakfast is eerily quiet when they arrive, and it makes them all proceed with caution. Pete, his combat training, and his parental terror lead the way.

They find the first black-clad commando at the base of the stairs, neck snapped. There's a second sprawled out halfway up the stairs, but Pete doesn't stop to figure out whether that one's breathing, sprinting the rest of the way to Max's room.

When he reaches the doorway, the sight that greets him knocks the wind out of his chest, forcing him to grab onto the door jamb.

Leena lays motionless just inside the door, her arm at an awkward angle. Past her are two more of the masked men, laid out, lifeless, on their backs. Pete's military instincts count out four now, but then he remembers he leaped over five and six in the hallway.

And in the rocking chair is HG Wells.

In her arms is Pete's eighteen-month-old son, quite contentedly resting his head against her shoulder, face buried in her neck. HG rubs his back and rocks him gently.

"She'll be fine," HG says hoarsely when she notices him. Myka and Artie finally catch up and likewise freeze at the sight. "Leena, I mean. She took a nasty blow to the head, and her arm will need casting. But she'll be fine."

The Imperceptor Vest lays discarded at her feet. When she speaks, Max twists about to see the new arrivals.

"Daddy!"

"Helena," Pete says emotionally, taking three quick steps to meet her, arms extended. "Thank you."

HG gives a curt nod and hands Max over.

"Daddy," Max smiles, clinging to his neck. "Agey's here."

"Oh, I know, buddy. I know," Pete repeats, rocking him back and forth and clinging tightly.

* * *

"Helena."

Hers is the voice that pulls Helena back fully to here and now, away from her past/present limbo. She tears her eyes from the father/son reunion and finds Myka's beautiful gaze awaiting her.

"Are you okay?"

"He's quite alright. A bit spooked, of course, by the noise and movement. Leena must have gotten him up to his crib, because he was just standing there, rattling the bars. Surprised to see me, I'm sure, but-"

"No," Myka pauses and looks over to Max and Pete, reaching to brush a hand over the baby's head and his relieved father's shoulder. "He's _great_, thanks to you. But are _you _okay?"

"He's alright," Helena repeats. "So I'm alright."

"Helena."

"Before we digress too much," Artie speaks up, coming to his feet after leaning down to check Leena's vitals and make her a little more comfortable. "And before the Regents' teams arrive. I am forced to ask: What the hell happened here?"

"Yeah," Pete notes, with Max still held oh-so-tight. "How did you beat us here?"

"The Imperceptor Vest," Artie nods to the floor.

"But we didn't even see you in the office," Myka says logically, even as she gently takes Helena's hands in hers. "And you were further into the Warehouse."

"Ah," Helena stands, giving Myka's hands a squeeze before releasing them and fishing into the pocket of her overcoat. "I left long before you. It was mere luck that I was near the Vest, but Claudia and I have been working on this."

She pulls out a device, smaller than her palm. Most of its surface is a screen with an outline of the inn and its perimeter.

"We have been trying to design a system of early warning more effective than the proximity alarm. Something simultaneously more and less sensitive. Something that can ignore the wildlife and even learn to recognize the postman. And that would give us more warning than the current system. It is still calibrating, though. Once it was done, we were going to distribute them."

"Okay. I'm officially a big fan of the Top Secret Shed," Pete announces, letting out a big breath.

"It has its advantages," Artie admits. "Did you learn anything about these men before - "

Helena shakes her head negatively.

"I should have left one alive. For questioning," she says regretfully.

"You did well, Agent Wells," Artie insists.

Pete takes a hand off Max long enough to pull HG into a one-armed hug, holding her almost as tightly as his baby boy.

"Thank you," he repeats emotionally.

"We'd all do the same in my position," she deflects, voice tight, easing out of his embrace.

"Helena," Myka starts, but the device in Helena's hand gives an innocuous chirp.

"That'll be the Regents, then."

"That was quick," Pete notes.

"I hit the panic button as we left," Myka tells him.

"Daddy, hun'ry," Max finally makes his voice heard.

Pete smiles, still shaking with adrenaline, with the terror of unanswered questions, that Helena knows all too well.

"Yeah, okay, little dude. Let's go get a snack."

Pete picks his way out of the room, stepping over the bodies on the floor, but in the doorway, Max whines and wriggles.

"No. Agey, too."

He reaches out towards Helena.

"I'll be down in just a few moments, Macsen. Save a snack for me."

Her words seem to placate him for now, and he babbles to his father all the way down the stairs.

"We should get Leena to the hospital," Helena says, crossing the room to their fallen friend. "She fought valiantly for-"

There's a commotion on the first floor as the Regents' team lets themselves in and starts to assess the situation.

Helena kneels at Leena's side and checks her vitals. Myka comes up behind her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"Artie can take care of that," Myka says gently. "Right, Artie? Let's-" She turns to Artie. "Can we have a minute before the questioning starts?"

Artie must assent, because Helena finds herself pulled to her feet and led across the hall to their bedroom.

"Darling, I'm fine, please. We have much-"

Myka shakes her head, grabbing Helena's face and forcing her darting eyes to meet hers.

"Talk to me."

"Myka, I-" Helena protests.

"You can't tell me that didn't bring something back."

"I'm glad I made it in time," is all Helena says, hands weakly reaching up to hold onto Myka's biceps. She sees the worry in Myka's steady gaze, but she's just _so tired_ and using the Imperceptor always did leave her a little dizzy.

"You saved him."

"Mm."

"You couldn't save Christina."

The name snaps Helena back to the twenty minutes previous. Her entire attention had been on Max, except...

Except not. She was somehow wholly in the moment and wholly in that day she lived a thousand times, a century ago.

This time, she changed the ending. This time she saved the day.

But she still lost her Christina.

"Max is alive. That is all that matters now. We need to find out who those men were. Because he was certainly their target. The rest can," she takes a deep breath and gives Myka the barest smile. "The rest can wait."

"If you're sure," Myka says slowly.

"I am."

"I'm glad you're okay," Myka breathes, hands still holding tightly to her face, her forehead resting against hers. "And thank you. I don't know what I would have done if something had happened. To either of you."

Helena kisses her then, a promise to keep trying to keep them all safe, as long as she can.

* * *

Myka finally manages to wrestle Max from his father's grasp almost an hour later. She's paying attention to the briefing and questioning, she swears she is, but she is not missing out on a chance to hold him before his grandmother swoops in or Steve and Claudia return.

"They didn't say anything," Leena's voice comes from the Farnsworth propped up against an open book on the table. "Just forced the door open. I made it to the nursery, but-"

"Are you uninjured except for your arm?" Helena interjects.

"Yes, yes. I'm fine," Leena shakes off the concern. "I have Mother Hen here to worry about me." She turns the Farnsworth to show Artie beside her.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner."

Leena shakes her head again. "You got there just in time."

"And there's nothing else you remember about them?" Mrs. Frederic asks.

"Nothing."

"And you either, Agent Wells?"

Myka really should be paying _more_ attention, but instead she is really just half-listening, the rest of her focus on Max. He's tuckered out, resting his head against her shoulder, and she gently rocks him back and forth, humming softly in his ear.

"There's gotta be something," Pete begs, running frustrated hands through his hair.

"They were clearly professionals," announces the leader of the Regents' unit, Namjas Singh. "But that is all we have. We'll keep digging, though."

The Unit is six former Marines called in for this sort of situation. The leader is a commanding woman in her mid-forties who takes her job very seriously and can often make Mrs. Frederic seem warm and inviting in comparison.

The theorizing and planning goes on around them, and this would usually be right up Myka's alley, but she is really having trouble engaging.

She's reliving those terrified minutes between the Warehouse and the Inn, Max in danger and Helena nowhere to be found. And walking into that room... The distant look in Helena's eyes, the way Max clung to her so tightly, the sheer relief of finding the two people who matter the most to her safe and alive.

"Don't you think, Agent Bering?" Mrs. Frederic is saying, and Myka refocuses.

"I'm sorry," she says sheepishly. "Don't I think what?"

"That perhaps we should all take a break for a few minutes."

"Yes, right. That sounds good," Myka nods, absently running her fingers through Max's hair.

"Excellent. Leena, I will come relieve Arthur for awhile, so I will see you soon."

* * *

The group disperses, Pete pulling aside Singh to discuss theories and next steps.

Helena has been watching Myka closely. She uncrosses her arms and with her hip she pushes off of the table she was resting on. She takes a few steps towards Myka and Max, grasping lightly at the loose fabric at Myka's elbow.

"How are you doing, love?"

"I'm fine," Myka shakes her head, holding on tightly to the back of Max's shirt.

"Hi," Max says softly, removing his pacifier from his mouth.

"Hello, darling," Helena smiles for him. "Does Aunt Myka have you?"

Max nods, hair rustling against Myka's collarbone.

Helena's hand finds Myka's elbow, and she tugs her close. She reaches across and brushes through Max's soft baby hair.

"How did you ever get out of bed?" Myka asks quietly.

Helena releases a soft sigh.

"I didn't. For a very long time. And then, I didn't sleep, for a very long time."

"I can't-" Myka swallows, and Helena notes the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. She puts an arm around her shoulders, ignoring the others in the room.

"Myka-"

"I thought I understood. Or that I was at least starting to understand. But I don't. Not at all. Because he, he's fine and I still can't stop thinking..."

Myka swallows back her tears, and Helena holds her tightly, kissing her temple.

"Let's go sit down for a moment," Helena says gently, leading her into the living room. The inn is still buzzing with activity, but everyone gives them wide berth.

Max squirms as they sit down on the couch, and at his third "Aun' Mykes!" she releases him. Still rubbing at his eyes, he climes around the couch until finally settling down, stretched across their laps.

Outside, there's a light snow falling on the few feet already coating the February ground.

"What I've learned," Helena says eventually, one hand playing idly with Max's stocking feet, the other twined with Myka's hand and resting on the boy's back. "Is that we must embrace the bright moments, the peaceful ones and the happy ones, when they come. The fear and anger are natural but only if they don't rule us."

Myka, who is looking stronger already, gives her a half-smile and says:

"So this strong desire to track down whoever sent them for him and pull them limb from limb?"

"Perfectly natural," Helena smirks. "And I'll help you. We just need to temper that desire enough to enjoy what we still have, safe and sound."

"What we seem to have right now is an almost sleeping baby."

Myka's smile finally reaches her eyes.

"There you guys are," says a weary Pete as he enters the living room. He grins just a little as he sees Max slung across them.

Myka pats the empty space beside her, and Pete flops down.

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Plotting revenge," Myka says. "And being thankful that he's alright."

"Thanks to HG," Pete says seriously. "I can never repay you."

Myka squeezes her hand and Helena replies:

"There is no need to. Unless of course I need you to take over my dish duty in the future."

Pete barks out a rough laugh, and Myka rolls her eyes a little. That's how Helena knows they will all eventually be alright.

* * *

"Drive faster," Claudia complains, fingers flying furiously across the keys of her netbook.

"Take a deep breath," Steve tries to soothe. "It's going to be okay."

"No, it is not. Some unknown masked men broke into the Inn. They hurt Leena and God knows what they would have done to Max. And we have no idea who they are or if more are coming! All I have is the license plate on their rental van, which is not going to turn up much if these guys were pros. Which they were. And- Whoa."

"What?"

"Shut up and step on it."

Claudia watches as her screen blinks a few times, and then text starts scrawling across the screen.

"Holy turning tables, Batman. I've been hacked."

* * *

tbc


	16. Chapter 16

Title: Delivered

Author: A. Windsor

Fandom: Warehouse 13

Characters: Myka Bering, HG Wells, Pete Lattimer, with supporting roles from everyone else.

Pairings: Myka/HG, Claudia/Leena if you're inclined to see it.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. My two years of law school could allow me to legalese this a little more, but it also tells me it's pretty useless. So please don't sue; it's not mine, I'm just playing!

Summary: "I didn't sign up for the Warehouse to mess with us like this."

Author's Note: Hello, all. I'm so very sorry that this final chapter took so long, but finals were annooooying, Anyway, here is the super long finale to _Delivered_, though there will still be a brief epilogue. Some questions are answered, some are purposefully left open, and some more are created, because this world? It's far from over.

* * *

_It won't happen again_.

These are the first words of the message, and Pete surprisingly does find himself relieved by them, even if they open up a million more questions.

Claudia stands, fidgety, to the side, until Helena puts a calming hand on her shoulder. Max still sleeps in the other room, passed out on the couch, with one of the Regent's soldiers and Trailer standing watch.

The message Claudia received earlier is currently being projected on the wall. Everyone is there, including Leena and Mrs. Frederic, who arrived around the same time as Claudia and Steve. And his mother, who came flying in with the rage of an avenging grandmother and needed twenty minutes to calm down enough to sit down with them all to watch.

_It won't happen again_, is once more typed across the screen.

_They came after him because of me. They are my enemies. I am sorry for that. I brought him to you so that this wouldn't happen. You were very difficult to find, and that is thanks to your Ms. Donovan, who is most impressive. I must have left some trace, however, because they found him, and I will never forgive myself that they came so close._

_Pete knows me as Sarah, but I believe Ms. Donovan knows me as Dwynwen. She can explain more, I'm sure, but I'm the type of person who makes many enemies. Any enemies that knew of Macsen's existence, however, have been eliminated. He will never be in danger because of me again. I'll do whatever else I can to keep him safe, and I know you'll do the same. Here are the people who ordered the hit on Macsen._

Three pictures slowly slide across the screen, each of three bodies, throats slit. Claudia, Leena, and Steve flinch a little at the gore, but Pete stares at them with a sense of satisfaction. Out of the corner of his eye, Pete notices Myka and HG exchange a glance.

_Knowledge of him died with them. I will leave a few breadcrumbs for Ms. Donovan to get a message to me if you absolutely must, but it is best for Macsen that I keep my distance so that no one else discovers out connection. Tell him whatever you must when he is old enough. I have done the best I can for him by delivering him to you. Take care of him, please._

_And I promise. It won't happen again._

Claudia, who throughout the message has drifted away from HG and Myka and towards Leena, leaps forward to switch off the projector.

"That was it. Which explains why I couldn't find her. Dwynwen has wiped every identifying piece of information from every digital database in the world. Which she would have to."

"Why?" Pete asks. "Who is Dwynwen?"

"Pretty much the most badass hacker ever," Claudia says, clearly impressed. "So, you know. A criminal," she adds, sheepishly. "A thief. But she's pulled off the most amazing heists. Of information or money or art or jewelry or really, whatever she wants. No one's ever been able to catch her. She's kinda a legend."

"Okay. So we just take this criminal's word for it that these were the people who were after Max? And that they're dead?" Artie asks skeptically.

"She left me a bunch of files on my computer so that I can verify her story."

"So get to it," Artie snaps.

"Hold your horses, Gramps. I'm starving."

"Let's go get you something from the kitchen," Leena sighs, starting to stand.

"Sit down," Claudia orders sternly, hands on her hips. "You are injured; relax."

"I'm fine," Leena objects, still trying to get to her feet.

"Steve," Claudia nods, and Jinks gently but firmly pushes Leena back into the chair. "I can feed myself. I'll take my computer out there and work while I eat."

"I'll help," HG offers, following Claudia after sharing one of her and Myka's eloquent gazes.

"Arthur, Jane, Singh, shall we convene in the living room?" Irene asks/orders. "Agent Lattimer, you can join us when you are ready."

Pete nods.

"Pete," Myka grabs his attention. "I'm going to move Max upstairs to your bed. Okay?"

"Thanks," he smiles. She really is a godsend. He couldn't do any of this without her. Speaking of...

"Steve, can you give us a second?" Pete asks.

"Yeah, sure," Steve nods, vacating the chair next to Leena and following HG into the kitchen.

Pete sits down in the seat Steve left.

"Pete, I'm so sorry," Leena starts. She's obviously still a little groggy from the pain meds, but the doctors cleared her for head injuries. "If HG hadn't-"

"Stop it," Pete cuts her off. He leans forward and pulls her into a warm embrace. "Thank you. You did everything you could. You bought HG time. And without you..." He pulls away but keeps his hand on her uninjured shoulder. "I couldn't do any of this without you, Leena. We all relied on you so much before, but - I mean, did I even ask before you basically took over Max duty half the time?"

"I volunteered," Leena says warmly.

"Everyone's been searching for Max's mom, but you, you and Myka, you've got the job covered."

Leena shakes her head. "We're all just taking care of our family."

"Is your arm going to be okay?" he asks.

'Eventually," Leena assures him.

"Okay." He kisses her cheek and nods towards the living room. "Want to go in there and figure out how we're gonna make sure it never happens again?"

* * *

It's not until they are finally going to sleep that Myka notices the cuts and bruises on Helena's hands and arms.

"Where are the rest?" she demands, pushing up her sleeves, and tugging in the hem of her shirt.

"There are none," Helena assures her. "The Imperceptor doubles as reasonable body armor, and they barely had time to react. But please, feel free to continue with a very thorough search."

At the last comment, she smirks, and Myka smiles, letting her fingers glide more slowly against the exposed skin of Helena's stomach. There is probably a lot more they need to talk about, but they've been talking almost constantly for the last six months. After the crazy, terrifying day they've had, Myka just wants to _feel_ her, so she pulls Helena close and kisses her, letting everything else wait.

* * *

"Come back to bed, it's freezing," Myka grumbles, half-awake, as she grabs at the empty space beside her. She catches sigh of the alarm clock. "And it's three a.m."

"In a while, darling," Helena tosses over her shoulder.

Myka recognizes the forced lightness of Helena's voice, and she's instantly awake. She throws back the covers, grabs her sweatshirt, and quickly slips into fuzzy giraffe slippers (a Christmas gift from Pete) to save her feet from the cold floors.

"Dreams?" Myka asks, joining Helena in the window, hugging herself against the cold.

She learned long ago not to call them nightmares. Most of what bothered Helena at night were just memories, painful ones, but just dreams of memories. The nightmares were few, far between, and devastating. They often followed afternoons that they spent in Helena's old Warehouse 12 room, going over stories of the life H.G. Wells lived before.

"I'm afraid I didn't even get enough to get to the dreams," Helena says softly.

The moon reflects off the blankets of snow, illuminating her creamy skin and underscoring the dark shadows under her eyes. Earlier, she had been staring out over the yard, but now she refocuses on Myka.

"I'm sorry," Myka frowns, reaching out with one hand to gently caress her shoulder, the other hand holding fast around her own waist, still trying to get warm. How had she survived all those long winter nights without Helena in her bed before?

Really, how had she survived any nights without her?

Helena's eyes cut back to the white stretching to the tree line.

"Christina loved the snow," she says.

Myka smiles a little. "Did you take her to play in it?"

"Not often enough," Helena admits sadly. She lets out a long breath that fogs the window. "Saving Macsen did not bring back Christina."

"No," Myka agrees, squeezing her shoulder.

"But at least I finally got there in time."

There's a wry laugh in her voice that Myka doesn't know how to respond to.

"I lost her, yes. Nothing can change that, and you know I have tried. But I _can_ do whatever I can to make sure that never happens to Pete." She brings her gaze back to Myka. "Or you. These new measures... They're a step in the right direction."

"I'm not sure I like that we have to have a few ex-soldiers living down the street," Myka admits, pulling a face. "I'm used to watching over, not being watched over."

"Oh yes." A smile tugs at the corners of Helena's lips. "Claudia has informed me of what you and Pete used to do in the Secret Service. I trust you will be heavily vetting whomever the Regents choose. Ever particular, my Myka."

Myka finds herself smiling, despite the hour and the lingering fear and the memory of Christina still in the air.

"And when do I get one of those cool tracking devices?" she asks, slipping her arms around Helena's waist and pushing in close, for both the warmth and the comfort of the embrace.

"Soon," Helena assures her, rubbing her hands on Myka's shoulders to help warm her (and her own hands) up. "Claudia is now trying to convert the software into some sort of 'app'. I must say that I prefer to dabble in the hardware myself. All this transferable software takes some of the fun out of it."

"Out of being a mad scientist?" Myka teases.

"Yes," Helena laughs.

"I see," Myka grins. "Can we go to sleep now? It's late, and it's probably going to be _our_ morning to have a wandering toddler."

"Yes, probably."

"I really wish you hadn't taught him how to lower the rail to get out."

"That was inadvertent!" Helena protests as she holds back the covers to allow Myka to crawl over her to her side of the bed.

"He still knows how to do it," Myka counters.

She snuggles into her pillow and then reaches for Helena as soon as she slides in next to her.

_Her Helena_, she thinks, who sees too much, feels too much, thinks too much, _knows_ too much . With her big, brilliant brain and her big, brilliant heart. Who the world beat down, but who still managed to pull through (with more than a few bumps on the way). Her genius out of time but always in her element.

"I love you," Myka says into her shoulder, holding her tightly.

Helena, with her romance and her words and her newfound peace. says this more often. But that certainly doesn't mean that Myka doesn't feel it, too.

* * *

"Where's Max?"

"My mom has him up in his room," Pete tells her. "You're waking up late. For you."

He waggles his eyebrows, and she obligingly smack the back of his head.

"Nothing like that," she insists, taking the seat next to him at the breakfast table, motioning for him to pass her the carafe of coffee. "HG and Claudia have been in the Top Secret Shed since around six."

"Good thing they put a space heater out there," Pete grins.

"Did Leena do this?" Myka asks, giving a concerned wave over the assortment of breakfast good on the table. "She should really be-"

Pete shakes his head and swallows his mouthful of scone.

"Steve and I set it up. Apparently Max decided to wake Uncle Steve up first this morning. His turn in baby roulette."

"I'd say I'm surprised at how nicely it turned out, but Steve has always been conscientious like that."

"Ouch," Pete clutches at his chest.

Myka smirks and shakes her head.

"How are you doing?" she asks more seriously.

Pete takes a long swig of coffee before answering:

"Alright. I didn't really sleep last night."

Myka doesn't say anything, waiting him out.

"Part of me wants to run. Just take him, and run, and leave artifacts and organized crime and all of this _weird_ behind."

"But?"

"But how could he ever be safer anywhere else? Wouldn't we always be looking over our shoulders? At least here people have our backs."

Myka smiles at that. He bumps her shoulder and continues:

"And I can't take him from you. All of you. Or vice versa."

"We're a family," Myka echoes.

"Yeah," Pete grins. "Us, and Max's own Regent goon squad, and whatever newbie Mrs. F is going to recruit to our cause."

"That's going to be an exciting first day," Myka laughs.

"Here is our Warehouse of endless wonder! And our Mary Poppins bed and breakfast! And our baby!" Pete pantomimes.

"We should take pictures."

Pete grins, and Myka keeps working on her breakfast. After several minutes of companionable silence, (enough for Myka to have checked the day's headlines on her phone), Pete says simply:

"Thanks."

"For what?" Myka asks distractedly.

"For everything," Pete says. "I couldn't have taken on Max without you. I mean, everyone's been amazing, and you and Leena are practically his moms, but you've also been here for _me._ Helping _me_ through the whole thing. You, and surprisingly I guess, HG."

Myka smiles.

"Pete, I'll always be here for you, you know that."

"Yeah, I know," Pete assures her.

"So what are we going to tell Max about his, um, birth mom?"

Pete purses his lips.

"I have no idea."

"Good to know we're on the same page," Myka laughs. "We'll figure it out. We've got some time."

They lapse into silence again, and piece by piece the rest of the family trickles in.

Jane brings Max down the stairs and drops him in Pete's lap, where the eighteen-month-old talks a mile a minute at his Aunt Mykes about playtime with Grandma. Artie, Steve, and Leena are next, the two men carrying armloads of groceries bought at Leena's command. Finally, HG and Claudia wander in from the Top Secret Shed.

"I'm starving," Claudia is complaining, taking a seat next to Leena and reaching for a scone.

"I told you to eat before we started," HG reminds her as she slips in beside Myka, making a silly face for Max. The boy greets her with an exuberant: "Agey!"

"It was the buttcrack of dawn; I wasn't hungry. Also, it's freezing out there."

"How is that relevant?"

"It's not. I'm just listing all my grievances. Our next Top Secret Shed project is gonna be souping up the space heater."

"I'll alert the fire station," Artie says wryly.

The room fills with convivial chatter, Max still telling Myka and HG all kinds of stories while Pete holds him tightly around the waist and occasionally drops a kiss on the top of his head.

* * *

They weren't ready when Max came, and every day he presents new challenges and difficulties. But in a job where saving the world every week can get a little old, frankly, and definitely exhausting, he has given all of them new drive, new purpose, and a new favorite way to return home:

Max, running full-speed to the door, yelling their name, and wrapping his arms around them like their arrival is the best part of his day. It probably is.

It's definitely the best part of theirs.

* * *

el fin (except for the epilogue!)


	17. Epilogue

Title: Delivered

Author: A. Windsor

Fandom: Warehouse 13

Characters: Myka Bering, HG Wells, Pete Lattimer, with supporting roles from everyone else.

Pairings: Myka/HG, Claudia/Leena if you're inclined to see it.

Rating: PG-13 (but this part is so very G)

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. My two years of law school could allow me to legalese this a little more, but it also tells me it's pretty useless. So please don't sue; it's not mine, I'm just playing!

Summary: "I didn't sign up for the Warehouse to mess with us like this."

Author's Note: Here's a fluffy, fluffy, fluffy epilogue.

"Lee-na."

"Ma-ax."

"No bed."

"Yes bed."

"Nooooo."

"Yesssss. You're already in bed, silly boy."

Max pouts but makes no further fruitless complaint. He's had a bath and three stories, so he knew this was coming, even if his two-year-old stubbornness forced him to fight it.

"Daddy?" he asks hopefully.

"He'll be home while you're sleeping. He'll come give you a kiss."

"Okay."

"Aunt Myka and HG, too."

Max smiles. "Claud?"

"Oh you're right. Stay here," she instructs, tucking him into his toddler bed and standing up. "Don't move!"

He nods and pulls his Pooh close, grabbing his pacifier from under his pillow.

"So _that's_ where you've been hiding that," Leena mutters as she sneaks down the hall to knock shortly on Claudia's door.

"Yeah?" Claudia calls from within.

Leena opens the door to find Claudia strumming softly at her guitar. She grins fondly.

"Max wants a goodnight."

"He's still up?" Claudia asks, surprised.

"He's exhausted but fighting it."

"I've got just the thing," Claudia smiles, standing with guitar still in hand. "One Aunt Claud lullaby serenade, coming up."

* * *

"Grandpa?"

"Yes, Max?"

He'll still protest when others call him that, but for Macsen, he merely answers without grumpiness. Vanessa finds it "adorable", and that helps.

"Cookie?" The toddler pauses to think, hand idly scratching at Trailer's head. "Please?"

Artie glances at his watch.

"Did you have lunch?"

Max nods dutifully. Artie glances around the first floor. The agents are all in the field, but Leena is puttering in the kitchen, from which Max just wandered.

"Alright." He reaches across the table for the tin of peanut butter cookies he made the night before. He steals one out and replaces the top, handing the cookie to Max.

"T'anks," Max says automatically. "Trailer too?"

Artie raises an eyebrow, and Trailer cocks his head hopefully.

"Yeah okay," Artie sighs, throwing one for the dog to catch. He shakes a figure at the boy and dog, an increasingly common pair. "Don't tell Leena."

"Don't tell Leena what?"

"Go," Artie shoos, grinning as Max giggles and hurries off towards the living room.

"Artie! Did you give him a cookie?!"

* * *

"Hey there."

"Hi-hi."

"Where are you supposed to be right now?" Steve asks the escapee.

Max shrugs, but his disheveled Mario longjohns and Pooh dangling from one hand give away the answer.

"What if Daddy knew you were awake?" Steve tries again, trying to be stern. Max's eyes widen, and he pops his pacifier out of his mouth.

"No, please, Unca Steve."

"Then we better get you back to bed, huh?"

Max nods vigorously and lifts his arms to be picked up, Pooh still clutched in one hand, pacifier in the other.

"Alright," Steve says, hefting Max onto his hip. Max's arms automatically squeeze around his neck, and Steve hugs him extra close in return. Steve carries the two-year-old back upstairs and tucks him into bed.

"Check," Max instructs.

"What, buddy?"

"Check," Max repeats, pointing toward the closet door.

"Oh, of course. I'm an expert at this, you know."

"Yeah," Max agrees, all snuggled into bed but watching Steve intently.

Steve makes a great show of rifling through the closet on a monster check, saying:

"Alright, if anyone is hiding in here, go home. This kid's got a big family and we're all heavily armed, yeah? So try another house."

Max laughs sleepily.

"T'anks, Unca Steve."

"You got it. Goodnight, Max. And stay put, huh?"

Max nods, and Steve ruffles his hair then kisses his forehead.

"Sweet dreams."

"S'eet dreams," Max echoes, eyes already closing.

* * *

"Alright, Lattimer fakes right, then right again, then- hey! Come back here with that ball! You're out of bounds."

Max just giggles and keeps trucking towards the other side of the house, tiny football tucked under one arm. Pete catches up with him in three long steps, sweeping him up into the air. Max keeps laughing as Pete turns him upside down, his obnoxiously orange Broncos stocking cap falling onto the leafy ground.

"That's not how you play football," Pete growls playfully, righting his son on the ground. He stoops to pick up the hat and pulls it back over Max's ears. "Wanna try again?"

Max nods, and Pete takes two steps back.

"Okay, throw it here."

"Okay, Daddy."

Max chucks the ball to him, and Pete catches it gamely. He underhands it back to the toddler. Max bobbles it, then grabs it off the ground and starts sprinting for the front porch.

"And it's Lattimer with the fumble return! He could! go! all! the! way!"

* * *

"Macsen," Helena says dryly.

"'Agey," the two-year-old says, just as seriously, looking up at her resolutely.

"I'm afraid I will have to ask you to move."

"No."

"Then I will have to fight you," she says, her voice just as serious but her eyes twinkling.

"Mine," Max declares, clinging tightly to Myka's arm.

"I disagree."

"You two really need to learn to share," Myka says disinterestedly, keeping her attention on her book, casually flipping a page.

Max and Helena stare at each other in consternation.

And then devolve into a tickle war.

Myka stands and extricates herself, letting them get out what Pete (as an expert) calls their "sillies".

When they collapse, exhausted, onto the couch, Myka takes her place in the configuration this was always going to end with any way: Myka and Helena sit close on the sofa, Max snuggled haphazardly across both laps.

"Is everyone happy now?" Myka asks, faux-seriously.

"I am. Max, are you happy?" Helena asks the boy whose hair she is currently sifting through.

"Yep," Max says with a laugh in his voice. "Mykes? Happy?"

"I'm good."

"Very good," Helena grins.

"Good," Max mimics.

* * *

fin


End file.
